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THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/oldsantaftrailstOOinma 


COLONEL  HENRY  INMAN. 

Late  of  the  U.  S.  Array. 


FlSL 
.1 


THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 


The  Story  of  a  Great  Highway 


BY 


COLONEL   HENRY   INMAN 

LATE  ASSISTANT  QUARTERMASTER,  UNITED  STATES  ARMY 


tc-$\ 


i*\  « 


CRANE  &  COMPANY 

1899 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright  1897, 
Bt  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Assigned,  1899, 

TO 

CRANE  &  COMPANY, 

TOPEKA. 


(5rcss  of  Crane  &  Company, 


To 

honourable  SEilltam  jF.  Coog 

"Buffalo  Bill  " 
Krjis  lTDlutnc  is  Sratcfullg  EnsrribtJj 

AS    A    SLIGHT    TRIBUTE    TO    A    GENEROUS    NATURE 
AND    A    NOBLE    MANHOOD 


Topeka,  Kansas,  Feb.  13,  1897 


PREFACE 

As  we  look  into  the  open  fire  for  our  fancies,  so  we  are 
apt  to  study  the  dim  past  for  the  wonderful  and  sublime, 
forgetful  of  the  fact  that  the  present  is  a  constant  ro- 
mance, and  that  the  happenings  of  to-day  which  we  count 
of  little  importance  are  sure  to  startle  somebody  in  the 
future,  and  engage  the  pen  of  the  historian,  philosopher, 
and  poet. 

Accustomed  as  we  are  to  think  of  the  vast  steppes  of 
Russia'  and  Siberia  as  alike  strange  and  boundless,  and  to 
deal  with  the  unknown  interior  of  Africa  as  an  impene- 
trable mystery,  we  lose  sight  of  a  locality  in  our  own 
country  that  once  surpassed  all  these  in  virgin  grandeur, 
in  majestic  solitude,  and  in  all  the  attributes  of  a  tremen- 
dous wilderness. 

The  story  of  the  Old  Santa  F^  Trail,  so  truthfully 
recalled  by  Colonel  Henry  Inman,  ex-officer  of  the  old 
Regular  Army,  in  these  pages,  is  a  most  thrilling  one. 
The  vast  area  through  which  the  famous  highwaj'  ran  is 
still  imperfectly  known  to  most  people  as  "  The  West "  ; 
a  designation  once  appropriate,  but  hardly  applicable  now  ; 
for  in   these  days   of   easy   communication   the   real   trail 


Vlll  PREFACE 

region  is  not  so  far  removed  from  New  York  as  Buffalo 
was  seventy  years  ago. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  "  commerce  of  the  prai- 
ries," in  the  early  portion  of  the  century,  the  Old  Trail  was 
the  arena  of  almost  constant  sanguinary  struggles  between 
the  wily  nomads  of  the  desert  and  the  hardy  white 
pioneers,  whose  eventful  lives  made  the  civilization  of  the 
vast  interior  region  of  our  continent  possible.  Their 
daring  compelled  its  development,  which  has  resulted  in 
the  genesis  of  great  states  and  large  cities.  Their  hard- 
ships gave  birth  to  the  American  homestead ;  their  deter- 
mined will  was  the  factor  of  possible  achievements,  the 
most  remarkable  and  important  of  modern  times. 

When  the  famous  highway  was  established  across  the 
great  plains  as  a  line  of  communication  to  the  shores  of 
the  blue  Pacifici,  the  only  method  of  travel  was  by  the 
slow  freight  caravan  drawn  by  patient  oxen,  or  the  lum- 
bering stage  coach  with  its  complement  of  four  or  six 
mules.  There  was  ever  to  be  feared  an  attack  by  those 
devils  of  the  desert,  the  Cheyennes,  Comanches,  and 
Kiowas.  Along  its  whole  route  the  remains  of  men,  ani- 
mals, and  the  wrecks  of  camps  and  wagons,  told  a  story 
of  suffering,  robbery,  and  outrage  more  impressive  than 
any  language.  Now  the  tourist  or  business  man  makes 
the  journey  in  palace  cars,  and  there  is  nothing  to  remind 
him  of  the  danger  or  desolation  of  Border  days  ;  on  every 
hand  are  the  evidences  of  a  powerful  and  advanced  civ- 
ilization. 

It  is  fortunate  that  one  is  left  to  tell  some  of  its  story 
who  was  a  living  actor  and  had  personal  knowledge   of 


PREFACE  ix 

many  of  the  thrilling  scenes  that  were  enacted  along  the 
line  of  the  great  route.  He  was  familiar  with  all  the 
famous  men,  both  white  and  savage,  whose  lives  have 
made  the  story  of  the  Trail,  his  own  sojourn  on  the-  plains 
and  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  extending  over  a  period  of 
nearly  forty  years. 

The  Old  Trail  has  more  than  common  interest  for  me, 
and  I  gladly  record  here  my  indorsement  of  the  faithful 
record,  compiled  by  a  brave  soldier,  old  comrade,  and 
friend. 

W.  F.  CODY, 

"BUFFALO    BILL." 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Preface  by  W.  F.  Cody         ........      vii 


INTRODUCTION 

The  First  Europeans  who  traversed  (;he-  Great  Highway — Alvar 
Nunez  Cabeca  de  Vaca —  Hernando  de  Soto,  and  Francisco  Vas- 
quez  de  Coronado  —  Spanish  Expedition  from  Santa  F6  east- 
wardly  —  Escape  of  the  Sole  Survivors 


CHAPTER  I 

Quaint  Descriptions  of  Old  Santa  F£  —  The  Famous  Adobe  Palace 
—  Santa  F6  the  Oldest  Town  in  the  United  States  —  First  Settle- 
ment—  Onate's  Conquest  —  Revolt  of  the  Pueblo  Indians  — 
Under  Pueblo  Rule  —  Cruelties  of  the  Victors  —  The  Santa  F6 
of  To-day  —  Arrival  of  a  Caravan  —  The  Railroad  reaches  the 
Town  —  Amusements  —  A  Fandango 12 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Beginning  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trade  —  La  Lande  and  Pursley, 
the  First  Americans  to  cross  the  Plains  —  Pursley's  Patriotism 
—  Captain  Ezekiel  Williams  —  A  Hungry  Bear  —  A  Midnight- 
Alarm  27 


CHAPTER   III 

Captain  Becknell's  Expedition  —  Sufferings  from  Thirst  —  Auguste 
Chouteau  —  Imprisonment  of  McKnight  and  Chambers  —  The 
Caches  —  Stampeding  Mules  —  First  Military  Escort  across  the 
Plains  —  Captain  Zebulon  Pike  —  Sublette  and  Smith  —  Murder 
of  McNess  —  Indians  not  the  Aggressors 38 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   IV 


The  Atajo  or  Pack-train  of  Mules  —  Mexican  Nomenclature  of  Para- 
phernalia—  Manner  of  Packing  —  The  "Bell-mare"  —  Tough- 
ness of  Mules  among  Precipices  —  The  Caravan  of  Wagons  — 
Largest  Wagon-train  ever  on  the  Plains  —  Stampedes  —  Duties 
of  Packers  en  route  —  Order  of  Travelling  with  Pack-train  — 
Chris.  Gilson,  the  Famous  Packer         ......       55 


CHAPTER   V 

Narrative  of  Bryant's  Party  of  Santa  Fe  Traders  —  The  First 
Wagon  Expedition  across  the  Plains  — ■  A  Thrilling  Story  of 
Hardship  and  Physical  Suffering  —  Terrible  Fight  with  the 
Comanches  —  Abandonment  of  the  Wagons  —  On  Foot  over  the 
Trail  —  Burial  of  their  Specie  on  an  Island  in  the  Arkansas  — 
Narrative  of  William  Y.  Hitt,  one  of  the  Party  —  His  Encounter 
with  a  Comanche  —  The  First  Escort  of  United  States  Troops  to 
the  Annual  Caravan  of  Santa  F6  Traders,  in  1829  —  Major  Ben- 
nett Riley's  Official  Report  to  the  War  Department  — ■  Journal  of 
Captain  Cooke 67 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Expedition  of  Texans  to  the  Old  Santa  Fe'  Trail  for  the  Purpose 
of  robbing  Mexican  Traders  —  Innocent  Citizens  of  the  United 
States  suspected,  arrested,  and  carried  to  the  Capital  of  New 
Mexico  —  Colonel  Snively's  Force  —  Warfield's  Sacking  of  the 
Village  of  Mora  —  Attack  upon  a  Mexican  Caravan  —  Kit 
Carson  in  the  Fight  —  A  Crime  of  over  Sixty  Years  Ago  —  A 
Romance  of  the  Tragedy 93 


CHAPTER   VII 

Mexico  declares  War  against  the  United  States  —  Congress  author- 
izes the  President  to  call  for  Fifty  Thousand  Volunteers  —  Or- 
ganization of  the  Army  of  the  West  —  Phenomenon  seen  by 
Santa  F6  Traders  in  the  Sky  —  First  Death  on  the  March  of  the 
Army  across  the  Plains  —  Men  in  a  Starving  Condition  —  An- 
other Death  —  Burial  near  Pawnee  Rock  —  Trouble  at  Pawnee 
Fork  —  Major  Howard's  Report  .......     102 


CONTENTS  xiii 


CHAPTER   VIII 

PAGE 

The  Valley  of  Taos—  First  White  Settler  —  Rebellion  of  the  Mex- 
icans—  A  Woman  discovers  and  informs  Colonel  Price  of  the 
Conspiracy  —  Assassination  of  Governor  Bent— Horrible  Butch- 
eries by  the  Pueblos  and  Mexicans  —  Turley's  Ranch  —  Mur- 
der of  Harwood  and  Markhead  — ■  Anecdote  of  Sir  -William 
Drummond  Stewart  —  Fight  at  the  Mills — -Battle  of  the  Pueblo 
of  Taos  —  Trial  of  the  Insurrectionists  —  Baptiste,  the  Juror  — 
Execution  of  the  Rebels 113 

CHAPTER    IX 

Independence  —  Opening  of  Navigation  on  the  Mississippi  —  Effect 
of  Water  Transportation  upon  the  Trade  —  Establishment  of 
Trading-forts  —  Market  for  Cattle  and  Mules  —  Wages  paid 
Teamsters  on  the  Trail  —  An  Enterprising  Coloured  Man  —  In- 
crease of  the  Trade  at  the  Close  of  the  Mexican  War  —  Heavy 
Emigration  to  California  —  First  Overland  Mail  —  How  the 
Guards  were  armed  —  Passenger  Coaches  to  Santa  Fe'  —  Stage- 
coaching  Days 141 

CHAPTER   X 

The  Tragedy  in  the  Canon  of  the  Canadian  —  Dragoons  follow  the 
Trail  of  the  Savages  —  Kit  Carson,  Dick  Wooton,  and  Tom  Tobin 
the  Scouts  of  the  Expedition  —  More  than  a  Hundred  of  the 
Savages  killed  —  Murder  of  Mrs.  White — White  Wolf  —  Lieu- 
tenant Bell's  Singular  Duel  with  the  Noted  Savage  —  Old  Wolf 

—  Satank  —  Murder  of  Peacock  —  Satanta  made  Chief  —  Kicking 
Bird  —  His  Tragic  Death  —  Charles  Bent,  the  Half-breed  Rene- 
gade—  His  Terrible  Acts  —  His  Death 160 

CHAPTER   XI 

Neglect  of  New  Mexico  by  the  United  States  Government  —  Intended 
Conquest  of  the  Province  —  Conspiracy  of  Southern  Leaders  — 
Surrender  by  General  Twiggs  to  the  Confederate  Government  of 
the  Military  Posts  and  Munitions  of  War  under  his  Command 

—  Only  One  Soldier  out  of  Two  Thousand  deserts  to  the  Enemy 

—  Organization  of  Volunteers  for  the  Defence  of  Colorado  and 
New  Mexico —Battle  of  La  Glorieta  —  Rout  of  the  Rebels  .        .     186 


XIV  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   XII 

page 
The  Ancient  Range  of  the  Buffalo  —  Number  slaughtered  in  Thir- 
teen Years  for  their  Robes  alone  —  Buffalo  Bones  —  Trains 
stopped  by  Vast  Herds  —  Custom  of  Old  Hunters  when  caught 
in  a  Blizzard  —  Anecdotes  of  Buffalo  Hunting  —  Kit  Carson's 
Dilemma  —  Experience  of  Two  of  Fremont's  Hunters  —  Wounded 
Buffalo  Bull  —  O'Neil's  Laughable  Experience  —  Organization 
of  a  Herd  of  Buffalo  —  Stampedes  —  Thrilling  Escapes        .         .     202 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Big  Timbers  —  Winter  Camp  of  the  Cheyennes,  Kiowas,  and  Ara- 
pahoes — Savage  Amusements  —  A  Cheyenne  Lodge  —  Indian 
Etiquette  —  Treatment  of  Children  —  The  Pipe  of  the  North 
American  Savage  —  Dog  Feast  —  Marriage  Ceremony  .         .     233 

CHAPTER   XIV 

The  Old  Pueblo  Fort  —  A  Celebrated  Rendezvous  —  Its  Inhabitants 

—  "Fontaine  qui  Bouille"  —  The  Legend  of  its  Origin  —  The 
Trappers  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe'  Trail  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  — 
Beaver  Trapping  —  Habits  of  the  Beaver — Improvidence  of  the 
Old  Trappers  —  Trading  with, "Poor  Lo  " — The  Strange  Expe- 
rience of  a  Veteran  Trapper  on  the  Santa  F6  Trail  —  Romantic 
Marriage  of  Baptiste  Brown         .......     251 

CHAPTER   XV 

Uncle  John  Smith  —  A  Famous  Trapper,  Guide,  and  Interpreter  — 
His  Marriage  with  a  Cheyenne  Squaw  —  An  Autocrat  among 
the  People  of  the  Plains  and  Mountains  —  The  Mexicans  held 
him  in  Great  Dread  —  His  Wonderful  Resemblance  to  President 
Andrew  Johnson  —  Interpreter  and  Guide  on  General  Sheridan's 
Winter  Expedition  against  the  Allied  Plains  Tribes  —  His  Stories 
around  the  Camp-fire 278 

CHAPTER   XVI 

Famous  Men  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe'  Trail  —  Kit  Carson  —  Jim  Bridger 

—  James  P.  Beckwourth  —  Uncle  Dick  Wooton  —  Jim  Baker  — 
Lucien  B.  Maxwell  — Old  Bill  Williams  — Tom  Tobin  — James 
Hobbs 314 


CONTENTS  XV 


CHAPTER   XVII 

PAGE 

Uncle  Dick  Wooton  —  Lucien  B.  Maxwell  —  Old  Bill  Williams  — 
Tom  Tobin  — James  Hobbs  — William  F.  Cody  (Buffalo  Bill)    .     341 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

Maxwell's  Ranch  on  the  Old  Santa  Fe'  Trail  —  A  Picturesque  Region 

—  Maxwell  a  Trapper  and  Hunter  with  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany —  Lifelong  Comrade  of  Kit  Carson  —  Sources  of  Maxwell's 
Wealth  —  Fond  of  Horse-racing  —  A  Disastrous  F'ourth-of-July 
Celebration  —  Anecdote  of  Kit  Carson  —  Discovery  of  Gold  on 
the  Ranch  —  The  Big  Ditch  —  Issuing  Beef  to  the  Ute  Indians 

—  Camping  out  with  Maxwell  and  Carson  —  A  Story  of  the  Old 
Santa  Fe  Trail 373 

CHAPTER   XIX 

The  Bents'  Several  Forts  —  Famous  Trading-posts  —  Rendezvous  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Trappers  —  Castle  William  and  Incidents 
connected  with  the  Noted  Place  —  Bartering  with  the  Indians  — 
Annual  Feast  of  Arapahoes  and  Cheyennes  — Old  Wolf's  F'irst 
Visit  to  Bent's  Fort  —  The  Surprise  of  the  Savages  —  Stories 
told  by  Celebrated  Frontiersmen  around  the  Camp-fire        .         .     389 

CHAPTER   XX 

Pawnee  Rock  —  A  Debatable  Region  of  the  Indian  Tribes  —  The 
most  Dangerous  Point  on  the  Central  Plains  in  the  Days  of  the 
Early  Santa  Fe-  Trade  —  Received  its  Name  in  a  Baptism  of 
Blood  —  Battle-ground  of  the  Pawnees  and  Cheyennes  —  Old 
Graves  on  the  Summit  of  the  Rock  —  Kit  Carson's  First  Fight 
at  the  Rock  with  the  Pawnees  —  Kills  his  Mule  by  Mistake  — 
Colonel  St.  Vrain's  Brilliant  Charge  —  Defeat  of  the  Savages  — 
The  Trappers'  Terrible  Battle  with  the  Pawnees  —  The  Mas- 
sacre at  Cow  Creek 403 

CHAPTER   XXI 

Wagon  Mound  —  John  L.  Hatcher's  Thrilling  Adventure  with  Old 
Wolf,  the  War-chief  of  the  Comanches  —  Incidents  on  the  Trail 

—  A  Boy  Bugler's  Happy  Escape  from  the  Savages  at  Fort  Union 


CONTENTS 


—  A  Drunken  Stage-driver — How  an  Officer  of  the  Quartermas- 
ter's Department  at  Washington  succeeded  in  starting  the  Mili- 
tary Freight  Caravans  a  Month  Earlier  than  the  Usual  Time  — 
How  John  Chisholm  fooled  the  Stage-robbers — The  Story  of 
Half  a  Plug  of  Tobacco 422 

CHAPTER   XXII 

Solitary  Graves  along  the  Line  of  the  Old  Santa  F6  Trail  —  The 
Walnut  Crossing  —  Fort  Zarah  —  The  Graves  on  Hon.  D.  Hei- 
zer's  Ranch  on  the  Walnut  —  Troops  stationed  at  the  Crossing 
of  the  Walnut  —  A  Terrible  Five  Miles  —  The  Cavalry  Recruit's 
Last  Ride 432 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

General  Hancock's  Expedition  against  the.  Plains  Indians  —  Terrible 
Snow-storm  at  Fort  Earned  —  Meeting  with  the  Chiefs  of  the 
Dog-Soldiers  —  Bull  Bear's  Diplomacy  —  Meeting  of  the  United 
States  Troops  and  the  Savages  in  Line  of  Battle  —  Custer's  Night 
Experience  —  The  Surgeon  and  Dog  Stew  —  Destruction  of  the 
Village  by  Fire  —  General  Sully's  Fight  with  the  Kiowas,  Co- 
manches,  and  Arapahoes  —  Finding  the  Skeletons  of  the  Unfor- 
tunate Men  —  The  Savages'  Report  of  the  Affair  ....     456 

CHAPTER   XXIV 

Scenery  on  the  Line  of  the  Old  Santa  F6  Trail  —  The  Great  Plains 

—  The  Arkansas  Valley  —  Over  the  Rocky  Mountains  into  New 
Mexico  —  The  Raton  Range  —  The  Spanish  Peaks  —  Simpson's 
Rest — Fisher's  Peak  —  Raton  Peak  —  Snowy  Range  —  Pike's 
Peak- — Raton  Creek  —  The  Invasion  of  the  Railroad  —  The  Old 
Santa  Fe  Trail  a  Thing  of  the  Past 480 

INDEX 491 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Colonel  Henry  Inman    .......        Frontispiece 

FULL-PAGE  PLATES  BY  FREDERICK  REMINGTON. 

FACING    PAGE 

Coronado's  March  . 5 

A  Pack  Train  to  Santa  Fe,  1820           ......  57 

Troops  going  to  Mexico,  1847 109 

A  Buffalo  with  the  Pack 209 

Hunting  on  a  Beaver  Stream,  1840      ......  263 

Government  Scouts  —  Moonlight 367 

A  Citadel  of  the  Plains 413 

A  Trapper  and  his  Pony        ........  485 

Map  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail 29 

INITIALS  AND   TAIL  PIECES  BY  THOMSON  WILLING. 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


INTRODUCTION 


THE    FIRST    EUROPEANS    WHO    TRAVERSED    THE    GREAT    HIGHWAY 

ALVAR     NUNEZ     CABEgA    DE    VACA HERNANDO     DE    SOTO, 

AND     FRANCISCO     VASQUEZ     DE     CORONADO  SPANISH     EXPE- 
DITION    FROM     SANTA     FE     EASTWARDLY ESCAPE     OF     THE 

SOLE    SURVIVORS 


Ifie  Old  Mb  oF  r~~~]OR  more  than  three  centu- 
ries, a  period  extending 
from  1541  to  1851,  his- 
torians believed,  and  so 
announced  to  the  liter- 
ary world,  that  Francisco 
Vasquez  de,  Coronado, 
the  celebrated  Spanish 
explorer,  in  his  search 
for  the  Seven  Cities  of 
Cibola  and  the  Kingdom 
\  of  Quivira,  was  the  first 
European  to  travel  over 
the  intra-continent  region 
of  North  America.  In  the  last 
year  above  referred  to,  however,  Buck- 
ingham Smith,  of  Florida,  an  eminent  Spanish  scholar, 
and  secretary   of  the  American  Legation  at  Madrid,  dis- 

B  1 


Z  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL 

covered  among  the  archives  of  State  the  Narrative  of 
Alvar  Nunez  Cabega  de  Vaca,  where  for  nearly  three  hun- 
dred years  it  had  lain,  musty  and  begrimed  with  the  dust 
of  ages,  an  unread  and  forgotten  story  of  suffering  that 
has  no  parallel  in  fiction.  The  distinguished  antiquarian 
unearthed  the  valuable  manuscript  from  its  grave  of 
oblivion,  translated  it  into  English,  and  gave  it  to  the 
world  of  letters ;  conferring  honour  upon  whom  honour 
was  due,  and  tearing  the  laurels  from  such  grand  voya- 
geurs  and  discoverers  as  De  Soto,  La  Salle,  and  Coro- 
nado,  upon  whose  heads  history  had  erroneously  placed 
them,  through  no  fault,  or  arrogance,  however,  of  their 
own. 

Cabeca,  beyond  any  question,  travelled  the  Old  Santa  Fe 
Trail  for  many  miles,  crossed  it  where  it  intersects  the 
Arkansas  River,  a  little  east  of  Fort  William  or  Bent's 
Fort,  and  went  thence  on  into  New  Mexico,  following  the 
famous  highway  as  far,  at  least,  as  Las  Vegas.  Cabeca's 
march  antedated  that  of  Coronado  by  five  years.  To  this 
intrepid  Spanish  voyageur  we  are  indebted  for  the^first 
description  of  the  American  bison,  or  buffalo  as  the  ani- 
mal is  erroneously  called.  While  not  so  quaint  in  its 
language  as  that  of  Coronado's  historian,  a  lustrum  later, 
the  statement  cannot  be  perverted  into  airy  other  refer- 
ence than  to  the  great  shaggy  monsters  of  the  plains :  — 

"  Cattle  come  as  far  as  this.  I  have  seen  them  three 
times  and  eaten  of  their  meat.  I  think  they  are  about 
the  size  of  those  of  Spain.  They  have  small  horns  like 
the  cows  of  Morocco,  and  the  hair  very  long  and  flocky, 
like  that  of  the  merino ;  some  are  light  brown,  others 
black.  To  my  judgment  the  flesh  is  finer  and  fatter  than 
that  of  this  country.  The  Indians  make  blankets  of  the 
hides  of  those  not  full  grown.  They  range  over  a  district 
of  more  than  four  hundred  leagues,  and  in  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  plain  over  which  they  run  the  people  that  inhabit 


INTRODUCTION  3 

near  there  descend  and  live  on  them  and  scatter  a  vast 
many  skins  throughout  the  country." 

It  will  he  rememhered  hy  the  student  of  the  early  his- 
tory of  our  country,  that  when  Alvar  Nunez  Cabec,a  de 
Vaca,  a  follower  of  the  unfortunate  Panphilo  de  Narvaez, 
and  who  had  been  long  thought  dead,  landed  in  Spain,  he 
gave  such  glowing  accounts  of  Florida 1  and  the  neigh- 
bouring regions  that  the  whole  kingdom  was  in  a  ferment, 
and  many  a  heart  panted  to  emigrate  to  a  land  where  the 
fruits  were  perennial,  and  where  it  was  thought  flowed 
the  fabled  fountain  of  youth. 

Three  expeditions  to  that  country  had  already  been 
tried:  one  undertaken  in  1512,  by  Juan  Ponce  de  Leon, 
formerly  a  companion  of  Columbus;  another  in  1520,  by 
Vasquez  de  Allyon  ;  and  another  by  Panphilo  de  Narvaez. 
All  of  these  had  signally  failed,  the  bones  of  most  of  the 
leaders  and  their  followers  having  been  left  to  bleach  upon 
the  soil  they  had  come  to  conquer. 

The  unfortunate  issue  of  the  former  expeditions  did  not 
operate  as  a  check  upon  the  aspiring  mind  of  De  Soto,  but 
made  him  the  more  anxious  to  spring  as  an  actor  into  the 
arena  which  had  been  the  scene  of  the  discomfiture  and 
death  of  the  hardy  chivalry  of  the  kingdom.  He  sought 
an  audience  of  the  emperor,  and  the  latter,  after  hearing 
De  Soto's  proposition  that,  "  he  could  conquer  the  country 
known  as  Florida  at  his  own  expense,"  conferred  upon 
him  the  title  of  "  Governor  of  Cuba  and  Florida." 

On  the  6th  of  April,  1538,  De  Soto  sailed  from  Spain 
with  an  armament  of  ten  vessels  and  a  splendidly  equipped 
army  of  nine  hundred  chosen  men,  amidst  the  roar  of  can- 
nons and  the  inspiring  strains  of  martial  music. 

It  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  work  to  follow 
De  Soto  through  all  his  terrible  trials  on  the  North  Ameri- 

1  The  whole  country  watered  by  the  Mississippi  and  Missouri  was 
called  Florida  at  that  time. 


4  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

can  continent;  the  wonderful  story  may  be  found  in  every 
well-organized  library.  It  is  recorded,  however,  that 
some  time  during  the  year  1542,  his  decimated  army,  then 
under  the  command  of  Luis  de  Moscoso,  De  Soto  having 
died  the  previous  May,  was  camped  on  the  Arkansas  River, 
far  upward  towards  what  is  now  Kansas.  It  was  this  com- 
mand, too,  of  the  unfortunate  but  cruel  De  Soto,  that  saw 
the  Rocky  Mountains  from  the  east.  The  chronicler  of 
the  disastrous  journey  towards  the  mountains  says:  "The 
entire  route  became  a  trail  of  fire  and  blood,"  as  they  had 
ma-ny  a  desperate  struggle  with  the  savages  of  the  plains, 
who  "  were  of  gigantic  structure,  and  fought  with  heavy 
strong  clubs,  with  the  desperation  of  demons.  Such  was 
their  tremendous  strength,  that  one  of  these  warriors  was 
a  match  for  a  Spanish  soldier,  though  mounted  on  a  horse, 
armed  with  a  sword  and  cased  in  armour  !  " 

Moscoso  was  searching  for  Coronado,  and  he  was  one  of 
the  most  humane  of  all  the  officers  of  De  Soto's  command, 
for  he  evidently  bent  every  energy  to  extricate  his  men 
from  the  dreadful  environments  of  their  situation;  despair- 
ing of  reaching  the  Gulf  by  the  Mississippi,  he  struck 
westward,  hoping,  as  Cabega  de  Vaca  had  done,  to  arrive 
in  Mexico  overland. 

A  period  of  six  months  was  consumed  in  Moscoso's 
march  towards  the  Rocky  Mountains,  but  he  failed  to  find 
Coronado,  who  at  that  time  was  camped  near  where 
Wichita,  Kansas,  is  located  ;  according  to  his  historian, 
"at  the  junction  of  the  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul"  (the 
Big  and  Little  Arkansas  ?).  That  point  was  the  place  of 
separation  between  Coronado  and  a  number  of  his  follow- 
ers; many  returning  to  Mexico,  while  the  undaunted  com- 
mander, with  as  many  as  he  could  induce  to  accompany  him, 
continued  easterly,  still  in  search  of  the  mythical  Quivira. 

How  far  westward  Moscoso  travelled  cannot  be  deter- 
mined accurately,   but    that    his    route   extended  up   the 


is  now  B  ■  at  of  h 

.:■.-  t!         andi 

■ 
Anothi 
p  of  n        da  wi 

liic]  iorou  iiod  h  ■■■    ■ 

- 

c  of  i      command  oi 

1 


■ 
'  •    -. 

.."'■.-..  ' 

Hi 

■    ,  .  t  ie   to  < 

titry.  I   ■ :  ■'■•'. 

dvfl   diiii  ■■  ' 

- 
...        , 

i 


CORONADO'S    MARCH 


INTRODUCTION  5 

valley  of  the  Arkansas  for  more  than  three  hundred  miles, 
into  what  is  now  Kansas,  is  proved  by  the  statement  of  his 
historian,  who  says:  "  They  saw  great  chains  of  mountains 
and  forests  to  the  west,  which  they  understood  were 
uninhabited." 

Another  strong  confirmatory  fact  is,  that,  in  1884,  a 
group  of  mounds  was  discovered  in  McPherson  County, 
Kansas,  which  were  thoroughly  explored  by  the  professors 
of  Bethany  College,  Lindsborg,  who  found,  among  other 
interesting  relics,  a  piece  of  chain-mail  armour,  of  hard 
steel ;  undoubtedly  part  of  the  equipment  of  a  Spanish 
soldier  either  of  the  command  of  Cabeqa  de  Vaca,  De  Soto, 
or  of  Coronado.  The  probability  is,  that  it  was  worn  by 
one  of  De  Soto's  unfortunate  men,  as  neither  Panphilo  de 
Narvaez,  De  Vaca,  or  Coronado  experienced  any  difficulty 
with  the  savages  of  the  great  plains,  because  those  leaders 
were  humane  and  treated  the  Indians  kindly,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  De  Soto,  who  was  the  most  inhuman  of  all  the 
early  Spanish  explorers.  He  was  of  the  same  school  as 
Pizarro  and  Cortez ;  possessing  their  daring  valour,  their 
contempt  of  danger,  and  their  tenacity  of  purpose,  as  well 
as  their  cruelty  and  avarice.  De  Soto  made  treaties  with 
the  Indians  which  he  constantly  violated,  and  murdered 
the  misguided  creatures  without  mercy.  During  the  re- 
treat of  Moscoso's  weakened  command  down  the  Arkan- 
sas River,  the  Hot  Springs  of  Arkansas  were  discovered. 
His  historian  writes :  "  And  when  they  saw  the  foam- 
ing fountain,  they  thought  it  was  the  long-searched-for 
'Fountain  of  Youth,'  reported  by  fame  to  exist  some- 
where in  the  country,  but  ten  of  the  soldiers  dying  from 
excessive  drinking,  they  were  soon  convinced  of  their 
error." 

After  these  intrepid  explorers  the  restless  Coronado  ap- 
pears on  the  Old  Trail.  In  the  third  volume  of  Hakluyt's 
Voyages,  published  in  London,  1600,  Coronado's  historian 


8  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

thus  describes  the  great  plains  of  Kansas  and  Colorado, 
the  bison,  and  a  tornado  :  — 

"  From  Cicuye  they  went  to  Quivira,  which  after  their 
account  is  almost  three  hundred  leagues  distant,  through 
mighty  plains,  and  sandy  heaths  so  smooth  and  wearisome, 
and  bare  of  wood  that  they  made  heaps  of  ox-dung,  for 
want  of  stones  and  trees,  that  they  might  not  lose  them- 
selves at  their  return :  for  three  horses  were  lost  on  that 
plain,  and  one  Spaniard  which  went  from  his  company  on 
hunting.  .  .  .  All  that  way  of  plains  are  as  full  of  crooked- 
back  oxen  as  the  mountain  Serrena  in  Spain  is  of  sheep, 
but  there  is  no  such  people  as  keep  those  cattle.  .  .  .  They 
were  a  great  succour  for  the  hunger  and  the  want  of  bread, 
which  our  party  stood  in  need  of.  .   .   . 

"One  day  it  rained  in  that  plain  a  great  shower  of  hail, 
as  big  as  oranges,  which  caused  many  tears,  weakness  and 
bowes. 

"  These  oxen  are  of  the  bigness  and  colour  of  our  bulls, 
but  their  bones  are  not  so  great.  They  have  a  great  bunch 
upon  their  fore-shoulder,  and  more  hair  on  their  fore  part 
than  on  their  hinder  part,  and  it  is  like  wool.  They  have 
as  it  were  an  horse-mane  upon  their  backbone,  and  much 
hair  and  very  long  from  their  knees  downward.  They 
have  great  tufts  of  hair  hanging  clown  on  their  foreheads, 
and  it  seemeth  they  have  beards  because  of  the  great  store 
of  hair  hanging  down  at  their  chins  and  throats.  The 
males  have  very  long  tails,  and  a  great  knob  or  flock  at 
the  end,  so  that  in  some  respects  they  resemble  the  lion, 
and  in  some  other  the  camel.  They  push  with  their  horns, 
they  run,  they  overtake  and  kill  an  horse  when  they  are 
in  their  rage  and  anger.  Finally  it  is  a  foul  and  fierce 
beast  of  countenance  and  form  of  body.  The  horses  fled 
from  them,  either  because  of  their  deformed  shape,  or  else 
because  they  had  never  before  seen  them." 

"The  number,"  continues  the  historian,  "was  incredi- 


INTRODUCTION  7 

ble."  When  the  soldiers,  in  their  excitement  for  the 
chase,  began  to  kill  them,  they  rushed  together  in  such 
masses  that  hundreds  were  literally  crushed  to  death.  At 
one  place  there  was  a  great  ravine ;  they  jumped  into  it  in 
their  efforts  to  escape  from  the  hunters,  and  so  terrible  was 
the  slaughter  as  they  tumbled  over  the  precipice  that  the 
depression  was  completely  filled  up,  their  carcasses  form- 
ing a  bridge,  over  which  the  remainder  passed  with  ease. 
The  next  recorded  expedition  across  the  plains  via 
the  Old  Trail  was  also  by  the  Spaniards  from  Santa  Fe", 
eastwardly,  in  the  year  1716,  "for  the  purpose  of  estab- 
lishing a  Military  Post  in  the  Upper  Mississippi  Valley  as 
a  barrier  to  the  further  encroachments  of  the  French  in 
that  direction."  An  account  of  this  expedition  is  found 
in  Me  moires  Historiques  sur  La  Louisiane,  published  in 
Paris  in  1858,  but  never  translated  in  its  entirety.  The 
author,  Lieutenant  Dumont  of  the  French  army,  was  one 
of  a  party  ascending  the  Arkansas  River  in  search  of  a 
supposed  mass  of  emeralds.  The  narrative  relates:  "There 
was  more  than  half  a  league  to  traverse  to  gain  the  other 
bank  of  the  river,  and  our  people  were  no  sooner  arrived 
than  they  found  there  a  party  of  Missouris,  sent  to  M.  de 
la  Harpe  by  M.  de  Bienville,  then  commandant  general  at 
Louisiana,  to  deliver  orders  to  the  former.  Consequently 
they  gave  the  signal  order,  and  our  other  two  canoes 
having  crossed  the  river,  the  savages  gave  to  our  com- 
mandant the  letters  of  M.  de  Bienville,  in  which  he  in- 
formed him  that  the  Spaniards  had  sent  out  a  detachment 
from  New  Mexico  to  go  to  the  Missouris  and  to  establish. 
a  post  in  that  country.  .  .  .  The  success  of  this  expe- 
dition was  very  calamitous  to  the  Spaniards.  Their  cara- 
van was  composed  of  fifteen  hundred  people,  men,  women 
and  soldiers,  having  with  them  a  Jacobin  for  a  chaplain, 
and  bringing  also  a  great  number  of  horses  and  cattle, 
according  to  the  custom  of  that  nation  to  forget  nothing 


8  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

that  might  be  necessary  for  a  settlement.  Their  design 
was  to  destroy  the  Missouris,  and  to  seize  upon  their 
country,  and  with  this  intention 'they  had  resolved  to  go 
first  to  the  Osages,  a  neighbouring  nation,  enemies  of  the 
Missouris,  to  form  an  alliance  with  them,  and  to  engage 
them  in  their  behalf  for  the  execution  of  their  plan.  Per- 
haps the  map  which  guided  them  was  not  correct,  or  they 
had  not  exactly  followed  it,  for  it  chanced  that  instead  of 
going  to  the  Osages  whom  they  sought,  they  fell,  without 
knowing  it,  into  a  village  of  the  Missouris,  where  the 
Spanish  commander,  presenting  himself  to  the  great  chief 
and  offering  him  the  calumet,  made  him  understand 
through  an  interpreter,  believing  himself  to  be  speaking  to 
the  Osage  chief,  that  they  were  enemies  of  the  Missouris, 
that  they  had  come  to  destroy  them,  to  make  their  women 
and  children  slaves  and  to  take  possession  of  their  country. 
He  beo-o-ed  the  chief  to  be  willing  to  form  an  alliance  with 
them,  against  a  nation  whom  the  Osages  regarded  as  their 
enemy,  and  to  second  them  in  this  enterprise,  promising 
to  recompense  them  liberally  for  the  service  rendered,  and 
always  to  be  their  friend  in  the  future.  Upon  this  discourse 
the  Missouri  chief  understood  perfectly  well  the  mistake. 
He  dissimulated  and  thanked  the  Spaniard  for  the  confidence 
he  had  in  his  nation ;  he  consented  to  form  an  alliance  with 
them  against  the  Missouris,  and  to  join  them  with  all  his 
forces  to  destroy  them ;  but  he  represented  that  his  people 
were  not  armed,  and  that  they  dared  not  expose  them- 
selves without  arms  in  such  an  enterprise.  Deceived  by 
so  favourable  a  reception,  the  Spaniards  fell  into  the  trap 
laid  for  them.  They  received  with  due  ceremony,  in  the 
little  camp  they  had  formed  on  their  arrival,  the  calumet 
which  the  great  chief  of  the  Missouris  presented  to  the 
Spanish  commander.  The  alliance  for  war  was  sworn  to 
by  both  parties ;  they  agreed  upon  a  day  for  the  execution 
of  the  plan  which  they  meditated,  and  the  Spaniards  fur- 


INTRODUCTION  9 

nished  the  savages  with  all  the  munitions  which  they 
thought  were  needed.  After  the  ceremony  both  parties 
gave  themselves  up  equally  to  joy  and  good  cheer.  At 
the  end  of  three  days  two  thousand  savages  were  armed 
and  in  the  midst  of  dances  and  amusements ;  each  party 
thought  of  nothing  but  the  execution  of  its  design.  It 
was  the  evening  before  their  departure  upon  their  con- 
certed expedition,  and  the  Spaniards  had  retired  to  their 
camps  as  usual,  when  the  great  chief  of  the  Missouris, 
having  assembled  his  warriors,  declared  to  them  his  in- 
tentions, and  exhorted  them  to  deal  treacherously  with 
these  strangers  who  were  come  to  their  home  only  with 
the  design  of  destroying  them.  At  daybreak  the  savages 
divided  into  several  bands,  fell  on  the  Spaniards,  who 
expected  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  in  less  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  all  the  caravan  were  murdered.  No  one 
escaped  from  the  massacre  except  the  chaplain,  whom 
the  barbarians  ,saved  because  of  his  dress ;  at  the  same 
time  they  took  possession  of  all  the  merchandise  and  other 
effects  which  they  found  in  their  camp.  The  Spaniards 
had  brought  with  them,  as  I  have  said,  a  certain  number  of 
horses,  and  as  the  savages  were  ignorant  of  the  use  of  these 
animals,  they  took  pleasure  in  making  the  Jacobin  whom 
they  had  saved,  and  who  had  become  their  slave,  mount 
them.  The  priest  gave  them  this  amusement  almost  every 
day  for  the  five  or  six  months  that  he  remained  with  them 
in  their  village,  without  any  of  them  daring  to  imitate 
him.  Tired  at  last  of  his  slavery,  and  regarding  the  lack 
of  daring  in  these  barbarians  as  a  means  of  Providence 
to  regain  his  liberty,  he  made  secretly  all  the  provisions 
possible  for  him  to  make,  and  which  he  believed  necessary 
to  his  plan.  At  last,  having  chosen  the  best  horse  and 
having  mounted  him,  after  performing  several  of  his  ex- 
ploits before  the  savages,  and  while  they  were  all  occupied 
with  his  manoeuvres,  he  spurred  up  and  disajjpeared  from 


10  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE   TRAIL 

their  sight,  taking  the  road  to  Mexico,  where  doubtless  he 
arrived." 

Charlevoix,1  who  travelled  from  Quebec  to  New  Orleans 
in  the  year  1721,  says  in  one  of  his  letters  to  the  Duchess 
of  Lesdiguieres,  dated  at  Kaskaskia,  July  21, 1721 :  "About 
two  years  ago  some  Spaniards,  coming,  as  they  say,  from 
New  Mexico,  and  intending  to  get  into  the  country  of 
the  Illinois  and  drive  the  French  from  thence,  whom  they 
saw  with  extreme  jealousy  approach  so  near  the  Missouri, 
came  down  the  river  and  attacked  two  villages  of  the 
Octoyas,2  who  are  the  allies  of  the  Ayouez,3  and  from 
whom  it  is  said  also  that  they  are  derived.  As  the 
savages  had  no  firearms  and  were  surprised,  the  Span- 
iards made  an  easy  conquest  and  killed  a  great  many  of 
them.  A  third  village,  which  was  not  far  off  from  the 
other  two,  being  informed  of  what  had  passed,  and  not 
doubting  but  these  conquerors  would  attack  them,  laid  an 
ambush  into  which  the  Spaniards  heedlessly  fell.  Others 
say  that  the  savages,  having  heard  that  the  enemy  were 
almost  all  drunk  and  fast  asleep,  fell  upon  them  in  the 
night.  However  it  was,  it  is  certain  the  greater  part  of 
them  were  killed.  There  were  in  the  party  two  almoners ; 
one  of  them  was  killed  directly  and  the  other  got  away  to 
the  Missouris,  who  took  him  prisoner,  but  he  escaped 
them  very  dexterously.  He  had  a  very  fine  horse  and  the 
Missouris  took  pleasure  in  seeing  him  ride  it,  which  he 
did  very  skilfully.  lie  took  advantage  of  their  curiosity 
to  cret  out  of  their  hands. 

"  One  day  as  he  was  prancing  and  exercising  his  horse 
before  them,  he  got  a  little  distance  from  them  insensibly ; 
then  suddenly  clapping  spurs  to  his  horse  he  was  soon  out 
of  sight." 

1  The  celebrated  Jesuit,  author  of  The  History  of  New  France,  Journals 
of  a  Voyage  to  North  America,  Letters  to  the  Duchess,  etc. 

2  Otoes.  3  Iowas. 


INTRODUCTION  11 

The  Missouri  Indians  once  occupied  all  the  territory 
near  the  junction  of  the  Kaw  and  Missouri  rivers,  but  they 
were  constantly  decimated  by  the  continual  depredations 
of  their  warlike  and  feudal  enemies,  the  Pawnees  and 
Sioux,  and  at  last  fell  a  prey  to  that  dreadful  scourge,  the 
small-pox,  which  swept  them  off  by  thousands.  The 
remnant  of  the  once  powerful  tribe  then  found  shelter  and 
a  home  with  the  Otoes,  finally  becoming  merged  in  that 
tribe. 


5dn1a 'If  'from  Eirtttdrcy  in  /J/0 


CHAPTER   I 

QUAINT    DESCRIPTIONS  OF  OLD   SANTA    FE THE  FAMOUS  ADOHE 

PALACE  SANTA     FE     THE     OLDEST     TOWN     IN     THE     UNITED 

STATES FIRST    SETTLEMENT ONATE's   CONQUEST REVOLT 

OF  THE  PUEBLO  INDIANS UNDER  PUEBLO  RULE CRUEL- 
TIES OF  THE  VICTORS THE  SANTA  FE  OF  TO-DAY ARRI- 
VAL OF  A  CARAVAN  THE  RAILROAD    REACHES   THE    TOWN 

AMUSEMENTS A  FANDANGO 


Mexican  pccfcf//n$_        -    "  ""_         c  H  E  Santa  Fe  of  the  purely 

Mexican  occupation,  long 
before  the  days  of  New 
Mexico's  acquisition  by 
the  United  States,  and 
the  Santa  Fe'  of  to-day 
V-'.'^'^TS?'  are  so  widely  in  contrast 
^  \  tnat  **  's  difficult  to  find 
t'-V.i'jSwii*;'  language  in  which  to  con- 
vey to  the  reader  the 
' )j  K_ |ti_, ;-_.  story  of  the  phenomenal 
change.  To  those  who 
are  acquainted  with  the 
-  charming  place  as  it  is 
now,  with  its  refined  and 
cultured  society,  I  cannot  do  better,  perhaps,  in  attempt- 
ing to  show  what  it  was  under  the  old  regime,  than  to 
quote  what  some  traveller  in  the  early  30's  wrote  for  a 
New  York  leading  newspaper,  in  regard  to  it.  As  far  as 
my  own  observation  of  the  place  is  concerned,  when  I  first 
visited  it  a  great  many  years  ago,  the  writer  of  the  com- 

12 


UNDER  THE   SPANIARDS  13 

munication  whose  views  I  now  present  was  not  incorrect 
in  his  judgment.      He  said:  — 

"  To  dignify  such  a  collection  of  mud  hovels  with  the 
name  of  'City,'  would  be  a  keen  irony;  not  greater,  how- 
ever, than  is  the  name  with  which  its  Padres  have  baptized 
it.  To  call  a  place  with  its  moral  character,  a  very  Sodom 
in  iniquity,  'Holy  Faith,'  is  scarcely  a  venial  sin;  it 
deserves  Purgatory  at  least.  Its  health  is  the  best  in  the 
country,  which  is  the  first,  second  and  third  recommenda- 
tion of  New  Mexico  by  its  greatest  admirers.  It  is  a 
small  town  of  about  two  thousand  inhabitants,  crowded  up 
against  the  mountains,  at  the  end. of  a  little  valley  through 
which  runs  a  mountain  stream  of  the  same  name  tributary 
to  the  Rio  Grande.  It  has  a  public  square  in  the  centre, 
a  Palace  and  an  Alameda;  as  all  Spanish  Roman  Catholic 
towns  have.  It  is  true  its  Plaza,  or  Public  Square,  is  un- 
fenced  and  uncared  for,  without  trees  or  grass.  The 
Palace  is  nothing  more  than  the  biggest  mud-house  in  the 
town,  and  the  churches,  too,  are  unsightly  piles  of  the 
same  material,  and  the  Alameda  ]  is  on  top  of  a  sand  hill. 
Yet  they  have  in  Santa  Fe  all  the  parts  and  parcels  of  a 
regal  city  and  a  Bishopric.  The  Bishop  has  a  palace  also; 
the  only  two-storied  shingle-roofed  house  in  the  place. 
There  is  one  public  house  set  apart  for  eating,  drinking 
and  gambling  ;  for  be  it  known  that  gambling  is  here 
authorized  by  law.  Hence  it  is  as  respectable  to  keep  a 
gambling  house,  as  it  is  to  sell  rum  in  New  Jersey;  it  is  a 
lawful  business,  and  being  lawful,  and  consequently  re- 
spectable and  a  man's  right,  why  should  not  men  gamble  ? 
And  gamble  they  do.  The  Generals  and  the  Colonels 
and  the  Majors  and  the  Captains  gamble.  The  judges  and 
the  lawyers  and  the  doctors  and  the  priests  gamble  ;  and 
there  are  gentlemen  gamblers  by  profession  !  You  will  see 
squads  of  poor  i^eons  daily,  men,  women  and  boys,  sitting 
1  Boulevard,  Promenade. 


14  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

on  the  ground  around  a  deck  of  cards  in  the  Public  Square, 
gambling  for  the  smallest  stakes. 

"  The  stores  of  the  town  generally  front  on  the  Public 
Square.  Of  these  there  are  a  dozen,  more  or  less,  of  re- 
spectable size,  and  most  of  them  are  kept  by  others  than 
Mexicans.  The  business  of  the  place  is  considerable, 
many  of  the  merchants  here  being  wholesale  dealers  for 
the  vast  territory  tributary.  It  is  supposed  that  about 
•$750,000  worth  of  goods  will  be  brought  to  this  place  this 
year,  and  there  may  be  $250,000  worth  imported  directly 
from  the  United  States. 

"  In  the  money  market  there  is  nothing  less  than  a  five- 
cent  piece.  You  cannot  purchase  anything  for  less  than 
five  cents.  In  trade  they  reckon  ten  cents  the  eighth  of  a 
dollar.  If  you  purchase  nominally  a  dollar's  worth  of  an 
article,  you  can  pay  for  it  in  eight  ten-cent  pieces ;  and  if 
you  give  a  dollar,  you  receive  no  change.  In  changing  a 
dollar  for  jrou,  you  would  get  but  eight  ten-cent  pieces 
for  it. 

"Yet,  although  dirty  and  unkempt,  and  swarming  with 
hungry  dogs,  it  has  the  charm  of  foreign  flavour,  and  like 
»San  Antonio  retains  some  portion  of  the  grace  which  long 
lingered  about  it,  if  indeed  it  ever  forsakes  the  spot  where 
Spain  held  rule  for  centuries,  and  the  soft  syllables  of  the 
Spanish  language  are  yet  heard." 

Such  was  a  description  of  the  "drowsy  old  town"  of 
Santa  Fe,  sixty-five  years  ago.  Fifteen  years  later  Major 
W.  H.  Emory,  of  the  United  States  army,  writes  of  it 
as  follows : 1  "  The  population  of  Santa  Fe  is  from  two 
to  four  thousand,  and  the  inhabitants  are,  it  is  said,  the 
poorest  people  of  any  town  in  the  Province.     The  houses 

1  Notes  of  a  Military  Reconnoissance  from  Fort  Leavenworth,  in  Mis- 
souri, to  San  Diego,  in  California,  including  parts  of  the  Arkansas,  Del 
Norte,  and  Gila  Rivers.  Brevet  Major  W.  H.  Emory,  Corps  of  Topo- 
graphical Engineers,  United  States  Army,  1846. 


UNDER   THE   SPANIARDS  15 

are  mud  bricks,  in  the  Spanish  style,  generally  of  one 
story,  and  built  on  a  square.  The  interior  of  the  square 
is  an  open  court,  and  the  principal  rooms  open  into  it. 
They  are  forbidding  in  appearance  from  the  outside,  but 
nothing  can  exceed  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  the 
interior.  The  thick  walls  make  them  cool  in  summer 
and  warm  in  winter. 

"  The  better  class  of  people  are  provided  with  excellent 
beds,  but  the  poorer  class  sleep  on  untanned  skins.     The 


;t  ■■-■- 


-* 

■  s  V 


A  Mexican  Ranch 


women  here,  as  in  many  other  parts  of  the  world,  appear 
to  be  much  before  the  men  in  refinements,  intelligence. 
and  knowledge  of  the  useful  arts.  The  higher  class  dress 
like  the  American  women,  except,  instead  of  a  bonnet, 
they  wear  a  scarf  over  their  head,  called  a  reboso.  This 
they  wear  asleep  or  awake,  in  the  house  or  abroad.  The 
dress  of  the  lower  classes  of  women  is  a  simple  petticoat, 
with  arms  and  shoulders  bare,  except  what  may  chance  to 
be  covered  by  the  reboso. 

"  The  men  who  have   means   to   do  so  dress   after   our 
fashion  ;  but  by  far  the  greater  number,  when  they  dress 


16  THE  OLD  SANTA  FB  TRAIL 

at  all,  wear  leather  breeches,  tight  around  the  hips  and 
open  from  the  knee  down  ;  shirt  and  blanket  take  the 
place  of  our  coat  and  vest. 

"  The  city  is  dependent  on  the  distant  hills  for  wood, 
and  at  all  hours  of  the  day  may  be  seen  jackasses  passing 
laden  with  wood,  which  is  sold  at  two  bits,  twenty-five 
cents,  the  load.  These  are  the  most  diminutive  animals, 
and  usually  mounted  from  behind,  after  the  fashion  of 
leap-frog.  The  jackass  is  the  only  animal  that  can  be 
subsisted  in  this  barren  neighbourhood  without  great  ex- 
pense ;  our  horses  are  all  sent  to  a  distance  of  twelve, 
fifteen,  and  thirty  miles  for  grass." 

I  have  interpolated  these  two  somewhat  similar  descrip- 
tions of  Santa  Fe  written  in  that  long  ago  when  New 
Mexico  was  almost  as  little  known  as  the  topography  of 
the  planet  Mars,  so  that  the  intelligent  visitor  of  to-day 
may  appreciate  the  wonderful  changes  which  American 
thrift,  and  that  powerful  civilizer,  the  locomotive,  have 
wrought  in  a  very  few  years,  yet  it  still,  as  one  of  the 
foregoing  writers  has  well  said,  "  has  the  charm  of  foreign 
flavour,  and  the  soft  syllables  of  the  Spanish  language  are 
still  heard." 

The  most  positive  exception  must  be  taken  to  the  state- 
ment of  the  first-quoted  writer  in  relation  to  the  Palace, 
of  which  he  says  "  It  is  nothing  more  than  the  biggest  mud- 
house  in  the  town."  Now  this  "  Palacio  del  Gobernador," 
as  the  old  building  was  called  by  the  Spanish,  was  erected 
at  a  very  early  day.  It  was  the  long-established  seat  of 
power  when  Penalosa  confined  the  chief  inquisitor  within 
its  walls  in  1663,  and  when  the  Pueblo  authorities  took 
possession  of  it  as  the  citadel  of  their  central  authority, 
in  1681. 

The  old  building  cannot  well  be  overlooked  by  the  most 
careless  visitor  to  the  quaint  town ;  it  is  a  long,  low  struct- 
ure, taking  up  the  greater  part  of  one  side  of  the  Plaza, 


UNDER   THE   SPANIARDS  17 

round  which  runs  a  colonnade  supported  by  pillars  of  rough 
pine.  In  this  once  leaky  old  Palace  were  kept,  or  rather 
neglected,  the  archives  of  the  Territory  until  the  American 
residents,  appreciating  the  importance  of  preserving  pre- 
cious documents  containing-  so  much  of  interest  to  the 
student  of  history  and  the  antiquarian,  enlisted  themselves 
enthusiastically  in  the  good  cause,  and  have  rescued  from 
oblivion  the  annals  of  a  relatively  remote  civilization,  which, 
but  for  their  forethought,  would  have  perished  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  as  completely  as  have  the  written  records 
of  that  wonderful  region  in  Central  America,  whose  gigan- 
tic ruins  alone  remain  to  tell  us  of  what  was  a  highly  cult- 
ured order  of  architecture  in  past  ages,  and  of  a  people 
whose  intelligence  was  comparable  to  the  style  of  the 
dwellings  in  which  they  lived. 

The  old  adobe  Palace  is  in  itself  a  volume  whose  pages 
are  filled  with  pathos  and  stirring  events.  It  has  been  the 
scene  and  witness  of  incidents  the  recital  of  which  would 
to  us  to-day  seem  incredible.  An  old  friend,  once  gov- 
ernor of  New  Mexico  and  now  dead,  thus  graphically 
,  spoke  of  the  venerable  building : *  "  In  it  lived  and  ruled 
the  Spanish  captain  general,  so  remote  and  inaccessible 
from  the  viceroyalty  at  Mexico  that  he  was  in  effect  a 
king,  nominally  accountable  to  the  viceroy,  but  practically 
beyond  his  reach  and  control  and  wholly  irresponsible  to 
the  people.  Equally  independent  for  the  same  reason 
were  the  Mexican  governors.  Here  met  all  the  provincial, 
territorial,  departmental,  and  other  legislative  bodies  that 
have  ever  assembled  at  the  capital  of  New  Mexico.  Here 
have  been  planned  all  the  Indian  wars  and  measures  for 
defence  against  foreign  invasion,  including,  as  the  most 
noteworthy,  the  Navajo  war  of  1823,  the  Texan  inva- 
sion of  1842,  the  American  of  1846,  and  the  Confederate 

1  Hon.  W.  F.  Amy,  in  his  Centennial  Celebration  Address  at  Santa  F<5, 
July  4,  1870. 
c 


18  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

of  1862.  Within  its  walls  was  imprisoned,  in  1809,  the 
American  explorer  Zebulon  M.  Pike,  and  innumerable 
state  prisoners  before  and  since ;  and  many  a  sentence  of 
death  has  been  pronounced  therein  and  the  accused  forth- 
with led  away  and  shot  at  the  dictum  of  the  man  at  the 
Palace.  It  has  been  from  time  immemorial  the  govern- 
ment house  with  all  its  branches  annexed.  It  was  such 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1776,  when  the  American  Congress 
at  Independence  Hall  in  Philadelphia  proclaimed  liberty 
throughout  all  the  land,  not  then,  but  now  embracing  it. 
Indeed,  this  old  edifice  has  a  history.  And  as  the  history 
of  Santa  Fe  is  the  history  of  New  Mexico,  so  is  the  history 
of  the  Palace  the  history  of  Santa  Fe." 

The  Palace  was  the  only  building  having  glazed  win- 
dows. At  one  end  was  the  government  printing  office, 
and  at  the  other,  the  guard-house  and  prison.  Fear- 
ful stories  were  connected  with  the  prison.  Edwards 1 
says  that  he  found,  on  examining  the  walls  of  the  small 
rooms,  locks  of  human  hair  stuffed  into  holes,  with  rude 
crosses  drawn  over  them. 

Fronting  the  Palace,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Plaza, 
stood  the  remains  of  the  Capilla  de  los  Soldados,  or  Mili- 
tary Chapel.  The  real  name  of  the  church  was  "  Our  Lady 
of  Light."  It  was  .said  to  be  the  richest  church  in  the 
Province,  but  had  not  been  in  use  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  allowing  the  elements  to  com- 
plete the  work  of  destruction.  On»each  side  of  the  altar 
was  the  remains  of  fine  carving,  and  a  weather-beaten  pict- 
ure above  gave  evidence  of  having  been  a  beautiful  paint- 
ing. Over  the  door  was  a  large  oblong  slab  of  freestone, 
elaborately  carved,  representing  "Our  Lady  of  Light"  res- 
cuing a  human  being  from  the  jaws  of  Satan.  A  large 
tablet,  beautifully  executed  in  relief,  stood  behind  the  altar, 
representing  various  saints,  with  an  inscription  stating  that 
1  Edwards,  Conquest  of  New  Mexico. 


UNDER  THE   SPANIARDS  19 

it  was  erected  by  Governor  Francisco  Antonio  del  Valle 
and  his  wife  in  1761. 

Church  services  were  held  in  the  Parroquia,  or  Parish 
church,  now  the  Cathedral,  which  had  two  towers  or 
steeples,  in  which  hung  four  bells.  The  music  was  fur- 
nished by  a  violin  and  a  triangle.  The  wall  back  of  the 
altar  was  covered  with  innumerable  mirrors,  paintings,  and 
bright-coloured  tapestry. 

The  exact  date  of  the  first  settlement  of  Santa  F^  is  un- 
certain. One  authority  says:  "It  was  a  primeval  strong- 
hold before  the  Spanish  Conquest,  and  a  town  of  some 
importance  to  the  white  race  when  Pennsylvania  was  a 
wilderness  and  the  first  Dutch  governor  of  New  York  was 
slowly  drilling  the  Knickerbocker  ancestry  in  their  diffi- 
cult evolutions  around  the  town-pump." 

It  is  claimed,  on  what  is  deemed  very  authentic  data  by 
some,  that  Santa  Fe"  is  really  the  oldest  settled  town  in  the 
United  States.  St.  Augustine,  Florida,  was  established 
in  1565  and  was  unquestionably  conceded  the  honour  of 
antiquity  until  the  acquisition  of  New  Mexico  by  the 
Guadalupe-Hidalgo  treaty.  Then,  of  course,  Santa  Fe" 
steps  into  the  arena  and  carries  off  the  laurels.  This  claim 
of  precedence  for  Santa  Fe  is  based  upon  the  statement 
(whether  historically  correct  or  not  is  a  question)  that 
when  the  Spaniards  first  entered  the  region  from  the 
southern  portion  of  Mexico,  about  1542,  they  found  a 
very  large  Pueblo  town  on  the  present  site  of  Santa 
Fe,  and  that  its  prior  existence  extended  far  back  into 
the  vanished  centuries.  This  is  contradicted  by  other  his- 
torians, who  contend  that  the  claim  of  Santa  Fe  to  be. the 
oldest  town  in  the  United  States  rests  entirely  on  imagi- 
nary annals  of  an  Indian  Pueblo  before  the  Spanish  Con- 
quest, and  that  there  are  but  slight  indications  that  the 
town  was  built  on  the  site  of  one.1 

1  I  think  this  is  Bancroft's  idea. 


20  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

The  reader  may  further  satisfy  himself  on  these  mooted 
points  by  consulting  the  mass  of  historical  literature  on 
New  Mexico,  and  the  records  of  its  primitive  times  are 
not  surpassed  in  interest  by  those  of  any  other  part  of  the 
continent.  It  was  there  the  Europeans  first  made  great 
conquests,  and  some  years  prior  to  the  landing  of  the  Pil- 
grims, a  history  of  New  Mexico,  being  the  journal  of  Gero- 
nimo  de  Zarate  Salmaron,  was  published  by  the  Church  in 
the  City  of  Mexico,  early  in  1U00.  Salmaron  was  a  Fran- 
ciscan monk;  a  most  zealous  and  indefatigable  worker. 
During  his  eight  years'  residence  at  Jemez,  near  Santa  Fe, 
he  claims  to  have  baptized  over  eight  thousand  Indians, 
converts  to  the  Catholic  faith.  His  journal  gives  a  de- 
scription of  the  country,  its  mines,  etc.,  and  was  made 
public  in  order  that  other  monks  reading  it  might  emulate 
his  pious  example. 

Between  1605  and  1616  was  founded  the  Villa  of  Santa 
F^,  or  San  Francisco  de  la  Santa  F^.  "  Villa,"  or  village, 
was  an  honorary  title,  always  authorized  and  proclaimed 
by  the  king.  Bancroft  says  that  it  was  first  officially 
mentioned  On  the  3d  of  January,  1617. 

The  first  immigration  to  New  Mexico  was  under  Don 
Juan  de  Onate  about  1597,  and  in  a  year  afterward,  accord- 
ing to  some  authorities,  Santa  Fe  was  settled.  The  place, 
as  claimed  by  some  historians,  was  then  named  El  Teguayo, 
a  Spanish  adaptation  of  the  word  "Tegua,"  the  name  of 
the  Pueblo  nation,  which  was  quite  numerous,  and  occupied 
Santa  Fe  and  the  contiguous  country.  It  very  soon,  from 
its  central  position  and  charming  climate,  became  the  lead- 
ing Spanish  town,  and  the  capital  of  the  Province.  The 
Spaniards,  who  came  at  first  into  the  country  as  friends, 
and  were  apparently  eager  to  obtain  the  good-will  of  the 
intelligent  natives,  shortly  began  to  claim  superiority,  and 
to  insist  on  the  performance  of  services  which  were  origi- 
nally mere  evidences  of  hospitality  and  kindness.     Little 


UNDER   THE   SPANIARDS  21 

by  little  they  assumed  greater  power  and  control  over  the 
Indians,  until  in  the  course  of  years  they  had  subjected  a 
large  portion  of  them  to  servitude  little  differing  from 
actual  slavery. 

The  impolitic  zeal  of  the  monks  gradually  invoked  the 
spirit  of  hatred  and  resulted  in  a  rebellion  that  drove  the 
Spaniards,  in  1680,  from  the  country'.  The  large  number 
of  priests  who  were  left  in  the  midst  of  the  natives  met 
with  horrible  fates:  "Not  one  escaped  martyrdom.  At 
Znni,  three  Franciscans  had  been  stationed,  and  when  the 
news  of  the  Spanish  retreat  reached  the  town,  the  people 
dragged  them  from  their  cells,  stripped  and  stoned  them, 
and  afterwards  compelled  the  servant  of  one  to  finish  the 
work  by  shooting  them.  Having  thus  whetted  their  appe- 
tite for  cruelty  and  vengeance,  the  Indians  started  to  carry 
the  news  of  their  independence  to  Moqui,  and  signalized 
their  arrival  by  the  barbarous  murder  of  the  two  mission- 
aries who  were  living  there.  Their  bodies  were  left 
unburied,  as  a  prey  for  the  wild  beasts.  At  Jemez  they 
indulged  in  every  refinement  of  cruelty.  The  old  priest, 
Jesus  Morador,  was  seized  in  his  bed  at  night,  stripped 
naked  and  mounted  on  a  hog,  and  thus  paraded  through 
the  streets,  while  the  crowd  shouted  and  yelled  around. 
Not  satisfied  with  this,  they  then  forced  him  to  carry  them 
as  a  beast  would,  crawling  on  his  hands  and  feet,  until, 
from  repeated  beating  and  the  cruel  tortures  of  sharp  spurs, 
he  fell  dead  in  their  midst.  A  similar  chapter  of  horrors 
was  enacted  at  Acoma,  where  three  priests  were  stripped, 
tied  together  with  hair  rope,  and  so  driven  through  the 
streets,  and  finally  stoned  to  death.  Not  a  Christian  re- 
mained free  within  the  limits  of  New  Mexico,  and  those 
who  had  been  dominant  a  few  months  before  were  now 
wretched  and  half-starved  fugitives,  huddled  together  in 
the  rude  huts  of  San  Lorenzo. 

"As  soon  as  the  Spaniards  had  retreated  from  the  coun- 


22  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

try,  the  Pueblo  Indians  gave  themselves  up  for  a  time  to 
rejoicing,  and  to  the  destruction  of  everything  which  could 
remind  them  of  the  Europeans,  their  religion,  and  their 
domination.  The  army  which  had  besieged  Santa  Fe' 
quickly  entered  that  city,  took  possession  of  the  Palace  as 
the  seat  of  government,  and  commenced  the  work  of 
demolition.  The  churches  and  the  monastery  of  the 
Franciscans  were  burned  with  all  their  contents,  amid 
the  almost  frantic  acclamations  of  the  natives.  The  gor- 
geous restments  of  the  priests  had  been  dragged  out  be- 
fore the  conflagration,  and  now  were  worn  in  derision  by 
Indians,  who  rode  through  the  streets  at  full  speed,  shout- 
ing for  joy.  The  official  documents  and  books  in  the 
Palace  were  brought  forth,  and  made  fuel  for  a  bonfire  in 
the  centre  of  the  Plaza ;  and  here  also  the}^  danced  the 
cachina,  with  all  the  accompanying  religious  ceremonies 
of  the  olden  time.  Everything  imaginable  was  done  to 
show  their  detestation  of  the  Christian  faith  and  their 
determination  to  utterly  eradicate  even  its  memory.  Those 
who  had  been  baptized  were  washed  with  amole  in  the 
Rio  Chiquito,  in  order  to  be  cleansed  from  the  infection 
of  Christianity.  All  baptismal  names  were  discarded, 
marriages  celebrated  by  Christian  priests  were  annulled, 
the  veiy  mention  of  the  names  Jesus  and  Mary  was  made 
an  offence,  and  estuffas  were  constructed  to  take  the  place 
of  ruined  churches."  1 

For  twelve  years,  although  many  abortive  attempts  were 
made  to  recapture  the  country,  the  Pueblos  were  left  in 
possession.  On  the  16th  of  October,  1693,  the  victorious 
Spaniards  at  last  entered  Santa  Fe,  bearing  the  same  ban- 
ner which  had  been  carried  by  Onate  when  he  entered  the 
city  just  a  century  before.  The  conqueror  this  time  was 
Don  Diego  de  Vargas  Zapata  Lujan,  whom  the  viceroy  of 

1  Historical  Sketches  of  New  Mexico,  L.  Bradford  Prince,  late  Chief 
Justice  of  New  Mexico,  1883. 


UNDER   THE   SPANIARDS  23 

New  Spain  had  appointed  governor  in  the  spring  of 
1692,  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  having  New  Mexico 
reconquered  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  quaint  old  city  has  been 
the  scene  of  many  important  historical  events,  the  mere 
outline  of  which  I  have  recorded  here,  as  this  book  is  not 
devoted  to  the  historical  view  of  the  subject. 

In  contradistinction  to  the  quiet,  sleepy  old  Santa  Fe"  of 
half  a  century  ago,  it  now  presents  all  the  vigour,  intelli- 
gence, and  bustling  progressiveness  of  the  average  Ameri- 
can city  of  to-day,  yet  still  smacks  of  that  ancient  Spanish 
regime,  which  gives  it  a  charm  that  only  its  blended  Euro- 
pean and  Indian  civilization  could  make  possible  after  its 
amalgamation  with  the  United  States. 

The  tourist  will  no  longer  find  a  drowsy  old  town,  and 
the  Plaza  is  no  longer  unfenced  and  uncared  for.  A 
beautiful  park  of  trees  is  surrounded  by  low  palings,  and 
inside  the  shady  enclosure,  under  a  group  of  large  cotton- 
woods,  is  a  cenotaph  erected  to  the  memory  of  the  Terri- 
tory's gallant  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  shock  of  battle  to 
save  New  Mexico  to  the  Union  in  1862,  and  conspicuous 
amono'  the  names  carved  on  the  enduring  native  rock  is 
that  of  Kit  Carson,  —  prince  of  frontiersmen,  and  one  of 
Nature's  noblemen. 

Around  the  Plaza  one  sees  the  American  style  of  archi- 
tecture and  hears  the  hum  of  American  civilization  ;  but 
beyond,  and  outside  this  pretty  park,  the  streets  are  narrow, 
crooked,  and  have  an  ancient  appearance.  There  the  old 
Santa  Fe"  confronts  the  stranger;  odd,  foreign-looking,  and 
flavoured  with  all  the  peculiarities  which  marked  the  era 
of  Mexican  rule.  And  now,  where  once  was  heard  the 
excited  shouts  of  the  idle  crowd,  of  "  Los  Americanos  ! " 
"Los  Carros!'"  "La  entrada  de  la  Caravana!"  as  the 
great  freight  wagons  rolled  into  the  streets  of  the  old 
town  from  the  Missouri,  over  the  Santa  Fe-  Trail,  the  shrill 


24  THE  OLD  SANTA  VE   TRAIL 

whistle  of  the  locomotive  from  its  trail  of  steel  awakens 
the  echoes  of  the  mighty  hills. 

As  may  be  imagined,  great  excitement  always  pre- 
vailed whenever  a  caravan  of  goods  arrived  in  Santa  Fe. 
Particularly  was  this  the  case  among  the  feminine  portion 
of  the  community.  The  quaint  old  town  turned  out  its 
mixed  population  en  masse  the  moment  the  shouts  went 
up  that  the  train  was  in  sight.  There  is  nothing  there 
to-day  comparable  to  the  anxious  looks  of  the  masses  as 
they  watched  the  heavily  freighted  wagons  rolling  into  the 
town,  the  teamsters  dust-begrimed,  and  the  mules  making 
the  place  hideous  with  their  discordant  braying  as  they 
knew  that  their  long  journey  was  ended  and  rest  awaited 
them.  The  importing  merchants  were  obliged  to  turn 
over  to  the  custom  house  officials  five  hundred  dollars  for 
every  wagon-load,  great  or  small ;  and  no  matter  what  the 
intrinsic  value  of  the  goods  might  be,  salt  or  silk,  velvets 
or  sugar,  it  was  all  the  same.  The  nefarious  duty  had  to 
be  paid  before  a  penny's  worth  could  be  transferred  to 
their  counters.  Of  course,  with  the  end  of  Mexican  rule 
and  the  acquisition  of  the  Province  by  the  United  States, 
all  opposition  to  the  traffic  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  ended, 
traders  were  assured  a  profitable  market  and  the  people 
purchased  at  relatively  low  prices. 

What  a  wonderful  change  has  taken  place  in  the  traffic 
with  New  Mexico  in  less  than  three-quarters  of  a  century  ! 
In  1825  it  was  all  carried  on  with  one  single  annual  cara- 
van of  prairie-schooners,  and  now  there  are  four  railroads 
running  through  the  Rio  Grande  Valley,  and  one  daily 
freight  train  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  into  the 
town  unloads  more  freight  than  was  taken  there  in  a  whole 
year  when  the  "commerce  of  the  prairies"  was  at  its 
height ! 

Upon  the  arrival  of  a  caravan  in  the  days  of  the  sleepy 
regime  under  Mexican  control,  the  people  did  everything 


UNDER   THE   SPANIARDS  25 

in  their  power  to  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  for  every 
one  connected  with  it  during  their  sojourn.  Bailes,  or 
fandangoes,  as  the  dancing  parties  were  called  hy  the 
natives,  were  given  nightly,  and  many  amusing  anecdotes 
in  regard  to  them  are  related  hy  the  old-timers. 

The  New  Mexicans,  both  men  and  women,  had  a  great 
fondness  for  jewelry,  dress,  and  amusements  ;  of  the  latter, 
the  fandango  was  the  principal,  which  was  held  in  the 
most  fashionable  place  of  resort,  where  every  belle  and 
beauty  in  the  town  presented  herself,  attired  in  the  most 
costly  manner,  and  displaying  her  jewelled  ornaments  to 
the  best  advantage.  To  this  place  of  recreation  and  pleas- 
ure, generally  a  large,  capacious  saloon  or  interior  court, 
all  classes  of  persons  were  allowed  to  come,  without  charge 
and  without  invitation.  The  festivities  usually  commenced 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the  tolling  of  the 
church  hells  was  the  signal  for  the  ladies  to  make  their 
entrance,  which  they  did  almost  simultaneously. 

New  Mexican  ladies  were  famous  for  their  gaud)'  dresses, 
but  it  must  be  confessed  they  did  not  exercise  good  taste. 
Their  robes  were  made  without  bodies  ;  a  skirt  only,  and  a 
long,  loose,  flowing  scarf  or  reboso  dexterously  thrown 
about  the  head  and  shoulders,  so  as  to  supersede  both  the 
use  of  dress-bodies  and  bonnets. 

There  was  very  little  order  maintained  at  these  fandan- 
goes, and  still  less  attention  paid  to  the  rules  of  etiquette. 
A  kind  of  swinging,  gallopade  waltz  was  the  favourite 
dance,  the  cotillion  not  being  much  in  vogue.  Read 
Byron's  graphic  description  of  the  waltz,  and  then  stretch 
your  imagination  to  its  utmost  tension,  and  you  will  per- 
haps have  some  faint  conception  of  the  Mexican  fandango. 
Such  familiarity  of  position  as  was  indulged  in  would  be 
repugnant  to  the  refined  rules  of  polite  society  in  the  east- 
ern cities;  but  with  the  New  Mexicans,  in  those  early  times, 
nothing  was  considered  to  be  a  greater   accomplishment 


26 


THE    OLD   SANTA   FE    TRAIL 


than  that  of  being  able  to  go  handsomely  through  all  the 
mazes  of  their  peculiar  dance. 

There  was  one  republican  feature  about  the  New  Mexi- 
can fandango ;  it  was  that  all  classes,  rich  and  poor  alike, 
met  and  intermingled,  as  did  the  Romans  at  their  Satur- 
nalia, upon  terms  of  equality.  Sumptuous  repasts  or  col- 
lations were  rarely  ever  prepared  for  those  frolicsome 
gatherings,  but  there  was  always  an  abundance  of  confec- 
tionery, sweetmeats,  and  native  wine.  It  cost  very  little  for 
a  man  to  attend  one  of  the  fandangoes  in  Santa  Fe\  but  not 
to  get  away  decently  and  sober.  In  that  it  resembled  the 
descent  of  vEneas  to  Pluto's  realms;  it  was  easy  enough 
to  get  there,  but  when  it  came  to  return,  "revocare  gradum, 
superasque  evadere  ad  auras,  hie  labor,  hoc  opus  est." 


Old jpanuh  Palace.  5anfafe'. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    SANTA    FE     TEADE LA    LANDE     AND 

PURSLEY,    THE    FIRST    AMERICANS     TO     CROSS     THE     PLAINS  

PURSLEY's     PATRIOTISM CAPTAIN     EZEKIEL     WILLIAMS  A 

HUNGRY    BEAR — A    MIDNIGHT    ALARM 


Ruins  of  a^  ~  IN    the    beginning    of    the 

^f'Q;/^?*^  I!  trade  with  New  Mexico, 

' ■ '■  the  route  across  the  great 

plains  was  directly  west 
from  the  Missouri  River 
to  the  mountains,  thence 
south  to  Santa  Fe  by  the 
circuitous  trail  from  Taos. 
When  the  tr;iffic  assumed 
an  importance  demanding 
a  more  easy  line  of  way, 
the  road  was  changed,  run- 
ning along  the  left  bank 
of  the  Arkansas  until  that 
stream  turned  northwest, 
at  which  point  it  crossed 
the  river,  and  continued  southwest  to  the  Raton  Pass. 

The  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad  track  sub- 
stantially follows  the  Trail  through  the  mountains,  which 
here  afford  the  wildest  and  most  picturesquely  beautiful 
scenery  on  the  continent. 

The  Arkansas  River  at  the  fording  of  the  Old  Trail  is 
not  more  than  knee-deep  at  an  ordinary  stage  of  water, 

27 


28  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

and  its  bottom  is  well  paved  with  rounded  pebbles  of  the 
primitive  rock. 

The  overland  trade  between  the  United  States  and  the 
northern  provinces  of  Mexico  seems  to  have  had  no  very 
definite  origin;  having  been  rather  the  result  of  an  acci- 
dent than  of  any  organized  plan  of  commercial  establish- 
ment. 

According  to  the  best  authorities,  a  French  creole, 
named  La  Lande,  an  agent  of  a  merchant  of  Kaskaskia, 
Illinois,  was  the  first  American  adventurer  to  enter  into  the 
uncertain  channels  of  trade  with  the  people  of  the  ultra- 
montane region  of  the  centre  of  the  continent.  He  began 
his  adventurous  journey  across  the  vast  wilderness,  with 
no  companions  but  the  savages  of  the  debatable  land,  in 
1804;  and  following  him  the  next  year,  James  Pursley 
undertook  the  same  pilgrimage.  Neither  of  these  pioneers 
in  the  "  commerce  of  the  prairies  "  returned  to  relate  what 
incidents  marked  the  passage  of  their  marvellous  expe- 
ditions. Pursley  was  so  infatuated  with  the  strange 
country  he  had  travelled  so  far  to  reach,  that  he  took  up 
his  abode  in  the  quaint  old  town  of  Santa  Fe,  where  his 
subsequent  life  is  lost  sight  of.  La  Lande,  of  a  different 
mould,  forgot  to  render  an  account  of  his  mission  to  the 
merchant  who  had  sent  him  there,  and  became  a  prosper- 
ous and  wealthy  man  by  means  of  money  to  which  he  had 
no  right. 

To  Captain  Zebulon  Pike,  who  afterwards  was  made  a 
general,  is  due  the  impetus  which  the  trade  with  Santa  Fe 
received  shortly  after  his  return  to  the  United  States. 
The  student  of  American  history  will  remember  that  the 
expedition  commanded  by  this  soldier  was  inaugurated  in 
1806 ;  his  report  of  the  route  he  had  taken  was  the  incen- 
tive for  commercial  speculation  in  the  direction  of  trade 
with  New  Mexico,  but  it  was  so  handicapped  by  restric- 
tions imposed  by  the  Mexican  government,  that  the  adven- 


LA  LANDE   AND   FUKSLEY  29 

turers  into  the  precarious  traffic  were  not  only  subject  to 
a  complete  confiscation  of  their  wares,  but  frequently  im- 
prisoned for  months  as  spies.  Under  such  a  condition 
of  affairs,  many  of  the  earlier  expeditions,  prior  to  1822, 
resulted  in  disaster,  and  only  a  limited  number  met  with 
an  indifferent  success. 

■  It  will  not  be  inconsistent  with  my  text  if  I  herewith 
interpolate  an  incident  connected  with  Pursley,  the  second 
American  to  cross  the  desert,  for  the  purpose  of  trade 
with  New  Mexico,  which  I  find  in  the  Magazine  of  Ameri- 
can History :  "  When  Zebulon  M.  Pike  was  in  Mexico,  in 
1807,  he  met,  at  Santa  Fe,  a  carpenter,  Pursley  by  name, 
from  Bardstown,  Kentucky,  who  was  working  at  his  trade. 
He  had  in  a  previous  year,  while  out  hunting  on  the  Plains, 
met  with  a  series  of  misfortunes,  and  found  himself  near 
the  mountains.  The  hostile  Sioux  drove  the  party  into 
the  hiafh  "■round  in  the  rear  of  Pike's  Peak.  Near  the 
headwaters  of  the  Platte  River,  Pursley  found  some  gold, 
which  he  carried  in  his  shot-pouch  for  months.  He  was 
finally  sent  by  his  companions  to  Santa  Fe,  to  see  if  they 
could  trade  with  the  Mexicans,  but  he  chose  to  remain  in 
Santa  Fe"  in  preference  to  returning  to  his  comrades.  He 
told  the  Mexicans  about  the  gold  he  had  found,  and  they 
tried  hard  to  persuade  him  to  show  them  the  place.  They 
even  offered  to  take  along  a  strong  force  of  cavalry.  But 
Pursley  refused,  and  his  patriotic  reason  was  that  he 
thought  the  land  belonged  to  the  United  States.  He  told 
Captain  Pike  that  he  feared  they  would  not  allow  him  to 
leave  Santa  Fe,  as  they  still  hoped  to  learn  from  him  where 
the  gold  was  to  be  found.  These  facts  were  published  by 
Captain  Pike  soon  after  his  return  east;  but  no  one  took 
the  hint,  or  the  risk  was  too  great,  and  thus  more  than 
a  half  a  century  passed  before  those  same  rich  fields  of 
gold  were  found  and  ojDened  to  the  world.  If  Pursley 
had   been  somewhat    less  patriotic,  and    had  guided  the 


30  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Mexicans  to  the  treasures,  the  whole  history  and  condi- 
tion of  the  western  part  of  our  continent  might  have  been 
entirely  different  from  what  it  now  is.  That  region  would 
still  have  been  a  part  of  Mexico,  or  Spain  might  have  been 
in  possession  of  it,  owning  California ;  and,  with  the  gold 
that  would  have  been  poured  into  her  coffers,  would  have 
been  the  leading  nation  of  European  affairs  to-day.  AVe 
can  easily  see  how  American  and  European  history  in  the 
nineteenth  century  might  have  been  changed,  if  that 
adventurer  from  Kentucky  had  not  been  a  true  lover  of 
his  native  country." 

The  adventures  of  Captain  Ezekiel  Williams  along  the 
Old  Trail,  in  the  early  days  of  the  century,  tell  a  story  of 
wonderful  courage,  endurance,  and  persistency.  Williams 
was  a  man  of  great  perseverance,  patience,  and  determina- 
tion of  character.  He  set  out  from  St.  Louis  in  the  late 
spring  of  1807,  to  trap  on  the  Upper  Missouri  and  the 
waters  of  the  Yellowstone,  with  a  party  of  twenty  men 
who  had  chosen  him  as  their  leader.  After  various  excit- 
ing  incidents  and  thrilling  adventures,  all  of  the  original 
party,  except  Williams  and  two  others,  were  killed  by  the 
Indians  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Upper  Arkan- 
sas. The  three  survivors,  not  knowing  where  they  were, 
separated,  and  Captain  Williams  determined  to  take  to  the 
stream  by  canoe,  and  trap  on  his  way  toward  the  settle- 
ments, while  his  last  two  companions  started  for  the  Spanish 
country,  —  that  is,  for  the  region  of  Santa  Fe.  The  journal 
of  Williams,  from  which  I  shall  quote  freely,  is  to  be  found 
in  The  Lost  Trappers,  a  work  long  out  of  print.1  As  the 
country  Avas  an  unexplored  region,  he  might  be  on  a  river 
that  flowed  into  the  Pacific,  or  he  might  be  drifting  down 
a  stream  -that  was  an  affluent  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  He 
was  inclined  to  believe  that  he  was  on  the  sources  of  the 
Red  River.  He  therefore  resolved  to  launch  his  canoe, 
1  D.  H.  Coyner,  1847. 


LA   LANDE   AND   PURSLEY  31 

and  go  wherever  the  stream  might  convey  him,  trapping 
on  his  descent,  when  beaver  might  be  plenty. 

The  first  canoe  he  used  he  made  of  buffalo-skins.  As 
this  kind  of  water  conveyance  soon  begins  to  leak  and  rot, 
he  made  another  of  cottonwood,  as  soon  as  he  came  to 
timber  sufficiently  large,  in  which  he  embarked  for  a  port, 
he  knew  not  where. 

Most  of  his  journeyings  Captain  AVilliams  performed  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  night,  excepting  when  he  felt  it  perfectly 
safe  to  travel  in  daylight.  His  usual  plan  was  to  glide  along 
down  the  stream,  until  he  came  to  a  place  where  beaver 
signs  were  abundant.  There  he  would  push  his  little  bark 
among  the  willows,  where  he  remained  concealed,  except- 
ing when  he  was  setting  his  ti'aps  or  visiting  them  in  the 
morning.  When  he  had  taken  all  the  beaver  in  one  neigh- 
bourhood, he  would  untie  his  little  conveyance,  and  glide 
onward  and  downward  to  try  his  luck  in  another  place. 

Thus  for  hundreds  of  miles  did  this  solitary  trapper  float 
down  this  unknown  river,  through  an  unknown  country, 
here  and  there  lashing  his  canoe  to  the  willows  and  plant- 
ing his  traps  in  the  little  tributaries  around.  The  upper 
part  of  the  Arkansas,  for  this  proved  to  be  the  river  he 
was  on,1  is  very  destitute  of  timber,  and  the  prairie  fre- 
quently begins  at  the  bank  of  the  river  and  expands  on 
either  side  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  He  saw  vast  herds 
of  buffalo,  and  as  it  was  the  rutting  season,  the  bulls 
were  making  a  wonderful  ado ;  the  prairie  resounded  with 
their  low,  deep  grunting  or  bellowing,  as  they  tore  up  the 
earth  with  their  feet  and  horns,  whisking  their  tails,  and 
defying  their  rivals  to  battle.  Large  gangs  of  wild  horses 
could  be  seen  grazing  on  the  plains  and  hillsides,  and  the 
neighing  and  squealing  of  stallions  might  be  heard  at  all 
times  of  the  night. 

1  He  was  travelling  parallel  to  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  all  the  time,  but 
did  not  know  it  until  he  was  overtaken  by  a  band  of  Kaw  Indians. 


32  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Captain  Williams  never  used  his  rifle  to  procure  meat, 
except  when  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  or  could  be  done 
with  perfect  safety.  On  occasions  when  he  had  no  beaver, 
upon  which  he  generally  subsisted,  he  ventured  to  kill  a 
deer,  and  after  refreshing  his  empty  stomach  with  a  portion 
of  the  flesh,  he  placed  the  carcass  in  one  end  of  the  canoe. 
It  was  his  invariable  custom  to  sleep  in  his  canoe  at  night, 
moored  to  the  shore,  and  once  when  he  had  laid  in  a  sup- 
ply of  venison  he  was  startled  in  his  sleep  by  the  tramping 
of  something  in  the  bushes  on  the  bank.  Tramp  !  tramp  ! 
tramp  !  went  the  footsteps,  as  they  approached  the  canoe. 
He  thought  at  first  it  might  be  an  Indian  that  had  found 
out  his  locality,  but  he  knew  that  it  could  not  be  ;  a  savage 
would  not  approach  him  in  that  careless  manner.  Although 
there  was  beautiful  starlight,  yet  the  trees  and  the  dense 
undergrowth  made  it  very  dark  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
close  to  which  he  lay.  He  always  adopted  the  precau- 
tion of  tying  his  canoe  with  a  piece  of  rawhide  about 
twenty  feet  long,  which  allowed  it  to  swing  from  the  bank 
at  that  distance ;  he  did  this  so  that  in  case  of  an  emer- 
gency he  might  cut  the  string,  and  glide  off  without  making 
any  noise.  As  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  grew  more  dis- 
tinct, he  presently  observed  a  huge  grizzly  bear  coming 
down  to  the  water  and  swimming  for  the  canoe.  The 
great  animal  held  his  head  up  as  if  scenting  the  venison. 
The  captain  snatched  his  axe  as  the  most  available  means 
to  defend  himself  in  such  a  scrape,  and  stood  with  it  up- 
lifted, ready  to  drive  it  into  the  brains  of  the  monster. 
The  bear  reached  the  canoe,  and  immediately  put  his  fore 
paws  upon  the  hind  end  of  it,  nearly  turning  it  over.  The 
captain  struck  one  of  the  brute's  feet  with  the  edge  of  the 
axe,  which  made  him  let  go  with  that  foot,  but  he  held  on 
with  the  other,  and  he  received  this  time  a  terrific  blow  on 
the  head,  that  caused  him  to  drop  away  from  the  canoe 
entirely.       Nothing  more  was  seen   of   the  bear,  and  the 


LA   LANDE    AND • PURSLEY  33 

captain  thought  he  must  have  sunk  in  the  stream  and 
drowned.  He  was  evidently  after  the  fresh  meat,  which 
he  scented  from  a  great  distance.  In  the  canoe  the  next 
morning  there  were  two  of  the  bear's  claws,  which  had 
been  cut  off  by  the  well-directed  blow  of  the  axe.  These 
were  carefully  preserved  by  Williams  for  many  years  as  a 
trophy  which  he  was  fond  of  exhibiting,  and  the  history  of 
which  he  always  delighted  to  tell. 

As  he  was  descending  the  river  with  his  peltries,  which 
consisted  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  beaver-skins, 
besides  some  of  the  otter  and  other  smaller  animals,  he 
overtook  three  Kansas  Indians,  who  were  also  in  a  canoe 
going  down  the  river,  as  he  learned  from  them,  to  some 
post  to  trade  with  the  whites.  They  manifested  a  very 
friendly  disposition  towards  the  old  trapper,  and  expressed 
a  wish  to  accompany  him.  He  also  learned  from  them,  to 
his  great  delight,  that  he  was  on  the  Big  Arkansas,  and 
not  more  than  five  hundred  miles  from  the  white  settle- 
ments. He  was  well  enough  versed  in  the  treachery  of 
the  Indian  character  to  know  just  how  much  he  could 
repose  in  their  confidence.  He  was  aware  that  they 
would  not  allow  a  solitary  trapper  to  pass  through  their 
country  with  a  valuable  collection  of  furs,  without,  at  least, 
making  an  effort  to  rob.  him.  He  knew  that  their  plan 
would  be  to  get  him  into  a  friendly  intercourse,  and  then, 
at  the  first  opportunity,  strip  him  of  everything  he  pos- 
sessed ;  consequently  he  was  determined  to  get  rid  of 
them  as  soon  as  possible,  and  to  effect  this,  he  plied  his 
oars  with  all  diligence.  The  Indians,  like  most  North 
American  savages,  were  laz}r,  and  had  no  disposition  to 
labour  in  that  way,  but  took  it  quite  leisurely,  satisfied 
with  being  carried  down  by  the  current.  Williams  soon 
left  them  in  the  rear,  and,  as  he  supposed,  far  behind 
him.  When  night  came  on,  however,  as  he  had  worked 
all  day,  and  slept  none   the  night  before,  he  resolved  to 


34  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

turn  aside  into  a  bunch  of  willows  to  take  a  few  hours' 
rest.  But  he  had  not  stopped  more  than  forty  minutes 
when  he  heard  some  Indians  pull  to  the  shore  just  above 
him  on  the  same  side  of  the  river.  He  immediately 
loosened  his  canoe  from  its  moorings,  and  glided  silently 
away.  He  rowed  hard  for  two  or  three  hours,  when  he 
again   pulled   to   the'  bank   and  tied  up. 

Only  a  short  time  after  he  had  landed,  he  heard  Indians 
again  going  on  shore  on  the  same  side  of  the  stream  as 
himself.  A  second  time  he  repeated  his  tactics,  slipped' 
out  of  his  place  of  concealment,  arid  stole  softly  away.  He 
pulled  on  vigorously  until  some  time  after  midnight,  when 
he  supposed  he  could  with  safety  stop  and  snatch  a  little 
sleep.  He  felt  apprehensive  that  he  was  in  a  dangerous 
region,  and  his  anxiety  kept  him  wide  awake.  It  was  very 
lucky  that  he  did  not  close  his  eyes ;  for  as  he  was  lying 
in  the  bottom  of  his  canoe  he  heard  for  the  third  time  a 
canoe  land  as  before.  He  was  now  perfectly  satisfied 
that  he  was  dogged  by  the  Kansans  whom  he  had  passed 
the  preceding  clay,  and  in  no  very  good  humour,  therefore, 
he  picked  up  his  rifle,  and  walked  up  to  the  bank  where 
he  had  heard  the  Indians  land.  As  he  suspected,  there 
were  the  three  savages.  When  they  saw  the  captain,  they 
immediately  renewed  their  expressions  of  friendship,  and 
invited  him  to  partake  of  their  hospitality.  He  stood  aloof 
from  them,  and  shook  his  head  in  a  rage,  charging  them  with 
their  villanous  purposes.  In  the  short,  sententious  manner 
of  the  Indians,  he  said  to  them  :  "  You  now  follow  me  three 
times  ;  if  you  follow  me  again,  I  kill  you  !  "  and  wheeling 
around  abruptly,  returned  to  his  canoe.  A  third  time  the 
solitary  trapper  pushed  his  little  craft  from  the  shore  and  set 
off  down  stream,  to  get  away  from  a  region  where  to  sleep 
would  be  hazardous.  He  plied  his  oars  the  remainder  of 
the  night,  and  solaced  himself  with  the  thought  that  no  evil 
had  befallen  him,  except  the  loss  of  a  few  hours'  sleep. 


LA   LANDE   AND   PURSLEY  35 

While  he  was  escaping  from  his  villanous  pursuers,  he 
was  running  into  new  dangers  and  difficulties.  The  fol- 
lowing day  he  overtook  a  large  band  of  the  same  tribe, 
under  the  leadership  of  a  chief,  who  were  also  descending 
the  river.  Into  the  hands  of  these  savages  he  fell  a  pris- 
oner, and  was  conducted  to  one  of  their  villages.  The 
principal  chief  there  took  all  of  his  furs,  traps,  and  other 
belongings.  A  very  short  time  after  his  capture,  the  Kan- 
sans  went  to  war  with  the  Pawnees,  and  carried  Captain 
Williams  with  them.  In  a  terrible  battle  in  which  the 
Kansans  gained  a  most  decided  victory,  the  old  trapper 
bore  a  conspicuous  part,  killing  a  great  number  of  the 
enemy,  and  by  his  excellent  strategy  brought  about  the 
success  of  his  captors.  When  they  returned  to  the  village, 
Williams,  who  had  ever  been  treated  with  kindness  by 
the  inhabitants,  was  now  thought  to  be  a  wonderful  war- 
rior, and  could  have  been  advanced  to  all  the  savage 
honours ;  he  might  even  have  been  made  one  of  their  prin- 
cipal chiefs.  The  tribe  gave  him  his  liberty  for  the  great 
service  he  had  rendered  it  in  its  difficulty  with  an  inveter- 
ate foe,  but  declining  all  proffered  promotions,  he  decided 
to  return  to  the  white  settlements  on  the  Missouri,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Kaw,  the  covetous  old  chief  retaining 
all  his  furs,  and  indeed  everything  he  possessed  excepting 
his  rifle,  with  as  many  rounds  of  ammunition  as  would  be 
necessary  to  secure  him  provisions  in  the  shape  of  game 
on  his  route.  The  veteran  trapper  had  learned  from  the 
Indians  while  with  them  that  they  expected  to  go  to  Fort 
Osage  on  the  Missouri  River  to  receive  some  annuities 
from  the  government,  and  he  felt  certain  that  his  furs 
would  be  there  at  the  same  time. 

After  leaving  the  Kansans  he  travelled  on  toward  the 
Missouri,  and  soon  struck  the  beginning  of  the  sparse 
settlements.  Just  as  evening  was  coming  on,  he  arrived 
at  a  cluster  of  three  little  log-cabins,  and  was   received 


36  THE   OLD  SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

with  genuine  backwoods  hospitality  by  the  proprietor, 
who  had  married  an  Osage  squaw.  Williams  was  not 
only  very  hungry,  but  very  tired ;  and,  after  enjoying 
an  abundant  supper,  he  became  stupid  and  sleepy,  and 
expressed  a  wish  to  lie  down.  The  generous  trapper 
accordingly  conducted  him  to  one  of  the  cabins,  in  which 
there  were  two  beds,  standing  in  opposite  corners  of  the 
room.  He  immediately  threw  himself  upon  one,  and  was 
soon  in  a  very  deep  sleep.  About  midnight  his  slumbers 
were  disturbed  by  a  singular  and  ver}r  frightful  kind  of 
noise,  accompanied  by  struggling  on  the  other  bed.  What 
it  was,  Williams  was  entirely  at  a  loss  to  understand. 
There  were  no  windows  in  the  cabin,  the  door  was  shut, 
and  it  was  as  dark  as  Egypt.  A  fierce  contest  seemed 
to  be  going  on.  There  were  deep  groanings  and  hard 
breathings ;  and  the  snapping  of  teeth  appeared  almost 
constant.  For  a  moment  the  noise  would  subside,  then 
again  the  struggles  would  be  renewed,  accompanied  as 
before  with  groaning,  deep  sighing,  and  grinding  of  teeth. 
The  captain's  bed-clothes  consisted  of  a  couple  of 
blankets  and  a  buffalo-robe,  and  as  the  terrible  struggles 
continued  he  raised  himself  up  in  the  bed,  and  threw  the 
robe  around  him  for  protection,  his  rifle  having  been  left 
in  the  cabin  where  his  host  slept,  while  his  knife  was 
attached  to  his  coat,  which  he  had  hung  on  the  corner 
post  of  the  other  bedstead  from  which  the  horrid  strug- 
gles emanated.  In  an  instant  the  robe  was  pulled  off,  and 
he  was  left  uncovered  and  unprotected ;  in  another  mo- 
ment a  violent  snatch  carried  away  the  blanket  upon  which 
he  was  sitting,  and  he  was  nearly  tumbled  off  the  bed 
with  it.  As  the  next  thingf  might  be  a  blow  in  the  dark, 
he  felt  that  it  was  high  time  to  shift  his  quarters ;  so  he 
made  a  desperate  leap  from  the  bed,  and  alighted  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  calling  for  his  host,  who  imme- 
diately came  to  his  relief  by  opening  the  door.     Williams 


LA   LANDE    AND   PURSLEY 


37 


then  told  him  that  the  devil — or  something  as  bad,  he  be- 
lieved—  was  in  the  room,  and  he  wanted  a  light.  The 
accommodating  trapper  hurried  away,  and  in  a  moment 
was  back  with  a  candle,  the  light  of  which  soon  revealed 
the  awful  mystery.  It  was  an  Indian,  who  at  the  time 
was  struggling  in  convulsions,  which  he  was  subject  to. 
He  was  a  superannuated  chief,  a  relative  of  the  wife  of 
the  hospitable  trapper,  and  generally  made  his  home  there. 
Absent  when  Captain  Williams  arrived,  he  came  into  the 
room  at  a  very  late  hour,  and  went  to  the  bed  he  usually 
occupied.  No  one  on  the  claim  knew  of  his  being  there 
until  he  was  discovered,  in  a  dreadfully  mangled  con- 
dition. He  was  removed  to  other  quarters,  and  Williams, 
who  was  not  to  be  frightened  out  of  a  night's  rest,  soon 
sunk  into  sound  repose. 

Williams  reached  the  agency  by  the  time  the  Kansas 
Indians  arrived  there,  and,  as  he  suspected,  found  that  the 
wily  old  chief  had  brought  all  his  belongings,  which  he 
claimed,  and  the  agent  made  the  savages  give  up  the  stolen 
property  before  he  would  p&y  them  a  cent  of  their  annui- 
ties. He  took  his  furs  down  to  St.  Louis,  sold  them  there 
at  a  good  price,  and  then  started  back  to  the  Rocky 
Mountains  on  another   trapping  tour. 


'/(■per  in  Vie  ftdv  Iti/ly 


CHAPTER   III 


CAPTAIN    BECKNELL  S    EXPEDITION SUFFERINGS    FROM    THIRST 

AUGUSTE    CHOUTEAU  IMPRISONMENT   OF   MCKNIGHT   AND 

CHAMBERS   THE     CACHES   STAMPEDING     MULES   FIRST 

MILITARY    ESCORT    ACROSS    THE    PLAINS CAPTAIN    ZEBULON 

PIKE  SUBLETTE    AND    SMITH MURDER    OF    MCNESS  IN- 
DIANS   NOT    THE    AGGRESSORS 


Sin 'Mj&jo 'o>mfc$j& 
iantdFe. 


N  1812  a  Captain  Beck- 
nell,  who  had  been  on 
a  trading  expedition  to 
the  country  of  the  Co- 
manches  in  the  summei 
of  1811,  and  had  done 
remarkably  well,  deter- 
mined the  next  season  to 
change  his  objective  point 
to  Santa  Fe,  and  instead 
of  the  tedious  process  of 
bartering  with  the  In- 
dians, to  sell  out  his  stock 
to  the  New  Mexicans. 
Successful  in  this,  his  first 
venture,  he  returned  to 
the  Missouri  River  with  a  well-filled  purse,  and  intensely 
enthusiastic  over  the  result  of  his  excursion  to  the  newly 
found  market. 

Excited  listeners  to  his  tales  of  enormous  profits  were 
not  lacking,  who,  inspired  by  the  inducement  he  held 
out  to  them,  cheerfully  invested  five  thousand  dollars  in 

38 


EARLY   TRADERS  39 

merchandise  suited  to  the  demands  of  the  trade,  and  were 
eager  to  attempt  with  him  the  passage  of  the  great  plains. 
In  this  expedition  there  were  thirty  men,  and  the  amount  of 
money  in  the  undertaking  was  the  largest  that  had  yet  been 
ventured.  The  progress  of  the  little  caravan  was  without 
extraordinary  incident,  until  it  arrived  at  "  The  Caches  " 
on  the  Upper  Arkansas.  There  Becknell,  who  was  in 
reality  a  man  of  the  then  "  Frontier,"  bold,  plucky,  and 
endowed  with  excellent  sense,  conceived  the  ridiculous 
idea  of  striking  directly  across  the  country  for  Santa  Fe 
through  a  region  absolutely  unexplored;  his  excuse  for 
this  rash  movement  being  that  he  desired  to  avoid  the 
rough  and  circuitous  mountain  route  he  had  travelled  on 
his  first  trip  to  Taos. 

His  temerity  in  abandoning  the  known  for  the  unknown 
was  severely  punished,  and  his  brave  men  suffered  untold 
misery,  barely  escaping  with  their  lives  from  the  terrible 
straits  to  which  they  were  reduced.  Not  having  the  re- 
motest conception  of  the  region  through  which  their  new 
trail  was  to  lead  them,  and  naturally  supposing  that  water 
would  be  found  in  streams  or  springs,  when  they  left  the 
Arkansas  they  neglected  to  supply  themselves  with  more 
than  enough  of  the  precious  fluid  to  last  a  couple  of  days. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  they  learned,  too  late,  that  they 
were  in  the  midst  of  a  desert,  with  all  the  tortures  of  thirst 
threatening  them. 

Without  a  tree  or  a  path  to  guide  them,  they  took  an 
irregular  course  by  observations  of  the  North  Star,  and  the 
unreliable  needle  of  an  azimuth  pocket-compass.  There  was 
a  total  absence  of  water,  and  when  what  they  had  brought 
with  them  in  their  canteens  from  the  river  was  exhausted, 
thirst  began  its  horrible  office.  In  a  short  time  both  men 
and  animals  were  in  a  mental  condition  bordering  on  dis- 
traction. To  alleviate  their  acute  torment,  the  dogs  of 
the  train  were  killed,  and  their  blood,  hot  and  sickening, 


40  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

eagerly  swallowed ;  then  the  ears  of  the  mules  were  cut 
off  for  the  same  purpose,  but  such  a  substitute  for  water 
only  added  to  their  sufferings.  They  would  have  perished 
had  not  a  superannuated  buffalo  bull  that  had  just  come 
from  the  Cimarron  River,  where  he  had  gone  to  quench  his 
thirst,  suddenly  appeared,  to  be  immediately  killed  and 
the  contents  of  his  stomach  swallowed  with  avidity.  It  is 
recorded  that  one  of  those  who  partook  of  the  nauseous 
liquid  said  afterward,  "  nothing  had  ever  passed  his  lips 
which  gave  him  such  exquisite  delight  as  his  first  draught 
of  that  filthy  beverage." 

Although  they  were  near  the  Cimarron,  where  there 
was  plenty  of  water,  which  but  for  the  affair  of  the  buffalo 
they  never  would  have  suspected,  they  decided  to  retrace 
their  steps  to  the  Arkansas. 

Before  they  started  on  their  retreat,  however,  some  of 
the  strongest  of  the  party  followed  the  trail  of  the  animal 
that  had  saved  their  lives  to  the  river,  where,  filling  all  the 
canteens  with  pure  water,  they  returned  to  their  comrades, 
who  were,  after  drinking,  able  to  march  slowly  toward  the 
Arkansas. 

Following  that  stream,  they  at  last  arrived  at  Taos, 
having  experienced  no  further  trouble,  but  missed  the  trail 
to  Santa  Fe,  and  had  their  journey  greatly  prolonged  by 
the  foolish  endeavour  of  the  leader  to  make  a  short  cut 
thither. 

As  early  as  1815,  Auguste  P.  Chouteau  and  his  partner, 
with  a  large  number  of  trappers  and  hunters,  went  out  to 
the  valley  of  the  Upper  Arkansas  for  the  purpose  of 
trading  with  Indians,  and  trapping  on  the  numerous 
streams  of  the  contiguous  region. 

The  island  on  which  Chouteau  established  his  trading- 
post,  and  which  bears  his  name  even  to  this  dajr,  is  in 
the  Arkansas  River  on  the  boundary  line  of  the  United 
States  and  Mexico.     It  was  a  beautiful  spot,  witli  a  rich 


EARLY   TRADERS  41 

carpet  of  grass  and  delightful  groves,  and  on  the  American 
side  was  a  heavily  timbered  bottom. 

While  occupying  the  island,  Chouteau  and  his  old 
hunters  and  trappers  were  attacked  by  about  three  hun- 
dred Pawnees,  whom  they  repulsed  with  the  loss  of  thirty 
killed  and  wounded.  These  Indians  afterward  declared 
that  it  was  the  most  fatal  affair  in  which  they  were  ever 
engaged.  It  was  their  first  acquaintance  with  American 
guns. 

The  general  character  of  the  early  trade  with  New 
Mexico  was  founded  on  the  system  of  the  caravan.  She 
depended  wpon  the  remote  ports  of  old  Mexico,  whence 
was  transported,  on  the  backs  of  the  patient  burro  and 
mule,  all  that  was  required  by  the  primitive  tastes  of  the 
primitive  people  ;  a  very  tedious  and  slow  process,  as  may 
be  inferred,  and  the  limited  traffic  westwardly  across  the 
great  plains  was  confined  to  this  fashion.  At  the  date  of 
the  legitimate  and  substantial  commerce  with  New  Mexico, 
in  1824,  wheeled  vehicles  were  introduced,  and  traffic  as- 
sumed an  importance  it  could  never  have  otherwise  attained, 
and  which  now,  under  the  vast  system  of  railroads,  has 
increased  to  dimensions  little  dreamed  of  "by  its  origina- 
tors nearly  three-quarters  of  a  century  ago. 

It  was  eight  years  after  Pursley's  pilgrimage  before  the 
trade  with  New  Mexico  attracted  the  attention  of  specu- 
lators and  adventurers.  Messrs.  McKnight,1  Beard,  and 
Chambers,  with  about  a  dozen  comrades,  started  with  a 
supply  of  goods  across  the  unknown  plains,  and  by  good 
luck  arrived  safely  at  Santa  Fe.  Once  under  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  Mexicans,  however,  their  trouble  began.  All 
the  party  were  arrested  as  spies,  their  wares  confiscated, 
and  themselves  incarcerated  at  Chihuahua,  where  the 
majority  of  them  were  kept  for  almost  a  decade.     Beard 

1  McKnight  was  murdered  south  of  the  Arkansas  by  the  Comanches  in 
the  winter  of  1822. 


42  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

and  Chambers,  having  by  some  means  escaped,  returned 
to  St.  Louis  in  1822,  and,  notwithstanding  their  dreadful 
experience,  told  of  the  prospects  of  the  trade  with  the 
Mexicans  in  such  glowing  colours  that  they  induced  some 
individuals  of  small  capital  to  fit  out  another  expedition, 
with  which  they  again  set  out  for  Santa  Fe. 

It  was  really  too  late  in  the  season ;  they  succeeded, 
however,  in  reaching  the  crossing  of  the  Arkansas  without 
any  difficulty,  but  there  a  violent  snowstorm  overtook  them 
and  they  were  compelled  to  halt,  as  it  was  impossible  to 
proceed  in  the  face  of  the  blinding  blizzard.  On  an  island1 
not  far  from  where  the  town  of  Cimarron,  on  the  Santa 
Fe  Railroad,  is  now  situated,  they  were  obliged  to  remain 
for  more  than  three  months,  during  which  time  most  of 
their  animals  died  for  want  of  food  and  from  the  severe 
cold.  When  the  weather  had  moderated  sufficiently  to 
allow  them  to  proceed  on  their  journey,  they  had  no  trans- 
portation for  their  goods  and  were  compelled  to  hide  them 
in  pits  dug  in  the  earth,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  French 
voyageurs  in  the  early  settlement  of  the  continent.  This 
method  of  secreting  furs  and  valuables  of  every  character 
is  called  caching,  from  the  French  word  "to  hide."  Gregg 
thus  describes  it:  "The  cache  is  made  by  digging  a  hole 
in  the  ground,  somewhat  in  the  shape  of  a  jug,  which  is 
lined  with  dry  sticks,  grass,  or  anything  else  ,  that  will 
protect  its  contents  from  the  dampness  of  the  earth.  In 
this  place  the  goods  to  be  concealed  are  carefully  stowed 
away;  and  the  aperture  is  then  so  effectually  closed  as  to 
protect  them  from  the  rains.  In  caching,  a  great  deal  of 
skill  is  often  required  to  leave  no  sign  whereby  the  cunning 
savage  may  discover  the  place  of  deposit.  To  this  end, 
the  excavated  earth  is  carried  some  distance  and  carefully 
concealed,  or  thrown  into  a  stream,  if  one  be  at  hand.  The 
place  selected  for  a  cache  is  usually  some  rolling  point, 
1  Chouteau's  Island. 


EARLY   TRADERS  43 

sufficiently  elevated  to  be  secure  from  inundations.  If  it 
be  well  set  with  grass,  a  solid  piece  of  turf  is  cut  out  large 
enough  for  the  entrance.  The  turf  is  afterward  laid  back, 
and,  taking  root,  in  a  short  time  no  signs  remain  of  its  ever 
having  been  molested.  However,  as  every  locality  does 
not  afford  a  turfy  site,  the  camp-fire  is  sometimes  built 
upon  the  place,  or  the  animals  are  penned  over  it,  which 
effectually  destroys  all  traces." 

Father  Hennepin1  thus  describes,  in  his  quaint  style,  how 
he  built  a  cache  on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  in  1680 : 
"  We  took  up  the  green  sodd,  and  laid  it  by,  and  digg'd  a 
hole  in  the  Earth  where  we  put  our  Goods,  and  cover'd 
them  with  pieces  of  Timber  and  Earth,  and  then  put  in 
again  the  green  Turf;  so  that  'twas  impossible  to  suspect 
that  any  Hole  had  been  digg'd  under  it,  for  we  flung  the 
Earth  into  the  River." 

After  caching  their  goods,  Beard  and  the  party  went  on 
to  Taos,  where  they  bought  mules,  and  returning  to  their 
caches  transported  their  contents  to  their  market. 

The  word  "  cache  "  still  lingers  among  the  "  old-timers"  of 
the  mountains  and  plains,  and  has  become  a  provincialism 
with  their  descendants ;  one  of  these  will  tell  you  that  he 
cached  his  vegetables  in  the  side  of  the  hill ;  or  if  he  is  out 
hunting  and  desires  to  secrete  himself  from  approaching 
game,  he  will  say,  "  I  am  going  to  cache  behind  that 
rock,"  etc. 

The  place  where  Beard's  little  expedition  wintered  was 
called  "The  Caches"  for  years,  and  the  name  has  only 
fallen  into  disuse  within  the  last  two  decades.  I  remem- 
ber the  great  holes  in  the  ground  when  I  first  crossed  the 
plains,  a  third  of  a  century  ago. 

The  immense  profit  upon  merchandise  transported  across 
the  dangerous  Trail  of  the  mid-continent  to  the  capital 
of  New  Mexico  soon  excited  the  cupidity  of  other  mer- 
1  Hennepiyi's  Journal. 


44  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE   TRAIL 

chants  east  of  the  Missouri.  When  the  commonest  do- 
mestic cloth,  manufactured  wholly  from  cotton,  brought 
from  two  to  three  dollars  a  yard  at  Santa  Fe\  and  other 
articles  at  the  same  ratio  to  cost,  no  wonder  the  commerce 
with  the  far-off  market  appeared  to  those  who  desired  to 
send  goods  there  a  veritable  Golconda. 

The  importance  of  internal  trade  with  New  Mexico, 
and  the  possibilities  of  its  growth,  were  first  recognized 
by  the  United  States  in  1824,  the  originator  of  the 
movement  being  Mr.  Thomas  Hart  Benton  of  Missouri, 
who  frequently,  from  his  place  in  the  Senate,  prophe- 
sied the  coming  greatness  of  the  West.  He  introduced 
a  bill  which  authorized  the  President  to  appoint  a  com- 
mission to  survey  a  road  from  the  Missouri  River  to 
the  boundary  line  of  .New  Mexico,  and  from  thence  on 
Mexican  territory  witli  the  consent  of  the  Mexican  gov- 
ernment. The  signing  of  this  bill  was  one  of  the  last 
acte  of  Mr.  Monroe's  official  life,  and  it  was  carried 
into  effect  by  his  successor,  Mr.  John  Quincy  Adams,  but 
unfortunately  a  mistake  was  made  in  supposing  that  the 
Osage  Indians  alone  controlled  the  course  of  the  proposed 
route.  It  was  partially  marked  out  as  far  as  the  Arkansas, 
by  raised  mounds  ;  but  travellers  continued  to  use  the  old 
wagon  trail,  and  as  no  negotiations  had  been  entered  into 
with  the  Comanches,  Cheyennes,  Pawnees,  or  Kiowas,  these 
warlike  tribes  continued  to  harass  the  caravans  when  these 
arrived  in  the  broad  valley  of  the  Arkansas. 

The  American  fur  trade  was  at  its  height  at  the  time 
when  the  Santa  Fe  trade  was  just  beginning  to  assume  pro- 
portions worth}'  of  notice  ;  the  difference  between  the  two 
enterprises  being  very  marked.  The  fur  trade  was  in 
the  hands  of  immensely  wealthy  companies,  while  that  to 
Santa  Fe  was  carried  on  by  individuals  with  limited  capi- 
tal, who,  purchasing  goods  in  the  Eastern  markets,  had  them 
transported  to  the  Missouri  River,  where,  until  the  trade 


EARLY   TRADERS  45 

to  New  Mexico  became  a  fixed  business,  everything  was 
packed  on  mules.  As  soon,  however,  as  leading  merchants 
invested  their  capital,  about  1824,  the  trade  grew  into  vast 
proportions,  and  wagons  took  the  place  of  the  patient 
mule.  Later,  oxen  were  substituted  for  mules,  it  having 
been  discovered  that  the}'  possessed  many  advantages  over 
the  former,  particularly  in  being  able  to  draw  heavier 
loads  than  an  equal  number  of  mules,  especially  through 
sandy  or  muddy  places. 

For  a  long  time,  the  traders  were  in  the  habit  of  pur- 
chasing their  mules  in  Santa  Fe  and  driving  them  to  the 
Missouri ;  but  as  soon  as  that  useful  animal  was  raised  in 
sufficient  numbers  in  the  Southern  States  to  supply  the 
demand,  the  importation  from  New  Mexico  ceased,  for  the 
reason  that  the  American  mule  was  in  all  respects  an  im- 
mensely superior  animal. 

Once  mules  were  an  important  object  of  the  trade,  and 
those  who  dealt  in  them  and  drove  them  across  to  the  river 
on  the  Trail" met  with  many  mishaps;  frequently  whole 
droves,  containing  from  three  to  five  hundred,  were  stolen 
by  the  savages  en  route.  The  latter  soon  learned  that  it 
was  a  very  easy  thing  to  stampede  a  caravan  of  mules,  for, 
once  panic-stricken,  it  is  impossible  to  restrain  them,  and 
the  Indians  having  started  them  kept  them  in  a  state  of 
rampant  excitement  by  their  blood-curdling  yells,  until 
they,  had  driven  them  miles  beyond  the  Trail. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  small  band  of  twelve  men,  who, 
while  encamped  on  the  Cimarron  River,  in  1826,  with 
but  four  serviceable  guns  among  them,  were  visited  by  a 
party  of  Indians,  believed  to  be  Arapahoes,  who  made  at 
first  strong  demonstrations  of  friendship  and  good-will. 
Observing  the  defenceless  condition  of  the  traders,  they 
went  away,  but  soon  returned  about  thirty  strong,  each  pro- 
vided with  a  lasso,  and  all  on  foot.  The  chief  then  began 
by  informing  the  Americans  that  his  men  were  tired  of 


46  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

walking,  and  must  have  horses.  Thinking  it  folly  to  offer 
any  resistance,  the  terrified  traders  told  them  if  one  animal 
apiece  would  satisfy  them,  to  go  and  catch  them.  This 
they  soon  did  ;  but  finding  their  request  so  easily  complied 
with,  the  Indians  held  a  little  parley  together,  which  re- 
sulted in  a  new  demand  for  more  —  they  must  have  two 
apiece  !  "  Well,  catch  them  !  "  was  the  acquiescent  reply 
of  the  unfortunate  band;  upon  which  the  savages  mounted 
those  they  had  already  secured,  and,  swinging  their  lassos 
over  their  heads,  plunged  among  the  stock  with  a  furious 
yell,  and  drove  -off  the  entire  caballacla  of  nearly  five 
hundred  head  of  horses,  mules,  and  asses. 

In  1829  the  Indians  of  the  plains  became  such  a  terror 
to  the  caravans  crossing  to  Santa  Fe,  that  the  United 
States  government,  upon  petition  of  the  traders,  ordered 
three  companies  of  infantry  and  one  of  riflemen,  under 
command  of  Major  Bennet  Riley,  to  escort  the  annual 
caravan,  which  that  year  started  from  the  town  of  Frank- 
lin. Missouri,  then  the  eastern  terminus  of  the  Santa  Fe 
trade,  as  far  as  Chouteau's  Island,  on  the  Arkansas,  which 
marked  the  boundary  between  the  United  States  and 
Mexico.1  The  caravan  started  from  the  island  across  the 
dreary  route  unaccompanied  by  any  troops,  but  had  pro- 
gressed only  a  few  miles  when  it  was  attacked  by  a  band 

1  The  line  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico  (or  New  Spain,  as  it 
was  called)  was  defined  by  a  treaty  negotiated  in  1819,  between  the 
Chevalier  de  Onis,  then  Spanish  minister  at  Washington,  and  John 
Quincy  Adams,  Secretary  of  State.  According  to  its  provisions,  the 
boundary  between  Mexico  and  Louisiana,  which  had  been  added  to  the 
Union,  commenced  with  the  river  Sabine  at  its  entrance  into  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  at  about  the  twenty-ninth  degree  of  north  latitude  and  the 
ninety-fourth  degree  of  longitude,  west  from  Greenwich,  and  followed  it 
as  far  as  its  junction  with  the  Red  River  of  Natchitoches,  which  then 
served  to  mark  the  frontier  up  to  the  one  hundredth  degree  of  west 
longitude,  where  the  line  ran  directly  north  to  the  Arkansas,  which  it 
followed  to  its  source  at  the  forty-second  degree  of  north  latitude,  whence 
another  straight  line  was  drawn  up  the  same  parallel  to  the  Pacific  coast. 


EARLY   TRADERS  47 

of  Kiowas,  then  one  of  the  most  cruel  and  bloodthirsty 
tribes  on  the  plains.1 

This  escort,  commanded  by  Major  Riley,  and  another 
under  Captain  Wharton,  composed  of  only  sixty  dragoons, 
five  years  later,  were  the  sole  protection  ever  given  by  the 
government  until  1843,  when  Captain  Philip  St.  George 
Cooke  again  accompanied  two  large  caravans  to  the  same 
point  on  the  Arkansas  as  did  Major  Riley  fourteen  years 
before. 

As  the  trade  increased,  the  Comanches,  Pawnees,  and 
Arapahoes  continued  to  commit  their  depredations,  and  it 
was  firmly  believed  by  many  of  the  freighters  that  these 
Indians  were  incited  to  their  devilish  acts  by  the  Mexi- 
cans, who  were  always  jealous  of  "  Los  Americanos." 

It  was  very  rarely  that  a  caravan,  great  or  small,  or  even 
a  detachment  of  troops,  no  matter  how  large,  escaped  the 
raids  of  these  bandits  of  the  Trail.  If  the  list  of  those 
who  were  killed  outright  and  scalped,  and  those  more  un- 
fortunate who  were  taken  captive  only  to  be  tortured  and 
their  bodies  horribly  mutilated,  could  be  collected  from 
the  opening  of  the  traffic  with  New  Mexico  until  the  years 
1868-69,  when  General  Sheridan  inaugurated  his  mem- 
orable "winter  campaign "  against  the  allied  plains  tribes, 
and  completely  demoralized,  cowed,  and  forced  them  on 
their  reservations,  about  the  time  of  the  advent  of  the 
railroad,  it  would  present  an  appalling  picture ;  and  the 
number  of  horses,  mules,  and  oxen  stampeded  and  stolen 
during  the  same  period  would  amount  to  thousands. 

As  the  excellent  narrative  of  Captain  Pike  is  not  read 
as  it  should  be  by  the  average  American,  a  brief  reference 

1  This  tribe  kept  up  its  reputation  under  the  dreaded  Satanta,  until 
1868, — a  period  of  forty  years, — when  it  was  whipped  into  submission 
by  the  gallant  Custer.  Satanta  was  its  war  chief,  one  of  the  most  cruel 
savages  the  great  plains  ever  produced.  He  died  a  few  years  ago  in  the 
state  prison  of  Texas. 


48  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

to  it  may  not  be  considered  supererogatory.  The  cele- 
brated officer,  who  was  afterward  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  major-general,  and  died  in  the  achievement  of  the 
victory  of  York,  Upper  Canada,  in  1813,  was  sent  in  1806 
on  an  exploring  expedition  up  the  Arkansas  River,  with 
instructions  to  pass  the  sources  of  Red  River,  for  which 
those  of  the  Canadian  were  then  mistaken ;  he,  however, 
even  went  around  the  head  of  the  latter,  and  crossing  the 
mountains  with  an  almost  incredible  degree  of  peril  and 
suffering,  descended  upon  the  Rio  del  Norte  with  his  little 
party,  then  but  fifteen  in  number. 

Believing  himself  now  on  Red  River,  within  the  then 
assumed  limits  of  the  United  States,  he  built  a  small 
fortification  for  his  company,  until  the  opening  of  the 
spring  of  1807  should  enable  him  to  continue  his  descent 
to  Natchitoches.  As  he  was  really  within  Mexican  terri- 
tory, and  only  about  eighty  miles  from  the  northern  settle- 
ments, his  position  was  soon  discovered,  and  a  force  sent 
to  take  him  to  Santa  Fe,  which  by  treachery  was  effected 
without  opposition.  The  Spanish  officer  assured  him  that 
the  governor,  learning  that  he  had  mistaken  his  way,  had 
sent  animals  and  an  escort  to  convey  his  men  and  baggage 
to  a  navigable  point  on  Red  River  (Rio  Colorado),  and 
that  His  Excellency  desired  very  much  to  see  him  at  Santa 
Fe,  which  might  be  taken  on  their  way. 

As  soon,  however,  as  the  governor  had  the  too  confid- 
ing captain  in  his  power,  he  sent  him  with  his  men  to  the 
commandant  general  at  Chihuahua,  where  most  of  his 
pajjers  were  seized,  and  he  and  his  party  were  sent  under 
an  escort,  via  San  Antonio  de  Bexar,  to  the  United  States. 

Many  citizens  of  the  remote  Eastern  States,  who  were 
contemporary  with  Pike,  declared  that  his  expedition  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  the  treasonable  attempt  of 
Aaron  Bun-.  The  idea  is  simply  preposterous ;  Pike's 
whole  line  of  conduct  shows  him  to  have  been  of  the  most 


EARLY  TRADERS  49 

patriotic  character;  never  would  lie  for  a  moment  have 
countenanced  a  proposition  from  Aaron  Burr! 

After  Captain  Pike's  report  had  been  published  to  the 
world,  the  adventurers  who  were  inspired  by  its  glowing 
description  of  the  country  he  had  been  so  far  to  explore 
were  destined  to  experience  trials  and  disappointments  of 
which  they  had  formed  no  conception. 

Among  them  was  a  certain  Captain  Sublette,  a  famous 
old  trapper  in  the  era  of  the  great  fur  companies,  and 
with  him  a  Captain  Smith,  who,  although  veteran  pioneers 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  were  mere  novices  in  the  many 
complications  of  the  Trail ;  but  having  been  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  the  great  divide  of  the  continent,  they  thought 
that  when  they  got  down  on  the  plains  they  could  go  any- 
where. They  started  with  twenty  wagons,  and  left  the 
Missouri  without  a  single  one  of  the  party  being  compe- 
tent to  guide  the  little  caravan  on  the  dangerous  route. 

From  the  Missouri  the  Trail  was  broad  and  plain  enough 
for  a  child  to  follow,  but  when  the)'  arrived  at  the  Cimar- 
ron crossing  of  the  Arkansas,  not  a  trace  of  former  cara- 
vans was  visible ;  nothing  but  the  innumerable  buffalo-trails 
leading  from  everywhere  to  the  river. 

When  the  party  entered  the  desert,  or  Dry  Route,  as  it 
was  years  afterward  always, >and  very  properly,  called  in 
certain  seasons  of  drought,  the  brave  but  too  confident 
men  discovered  that  the  whole  region  was  burnt  up.  They 
wandered  on  for  several  days,  the  horrors  of  death  by 
thirst  constantly  confronting  them.  Water  must  be  had 
or  they  would  all  perish  !  At  last  Smith,  in  his  desperation, 
determined  to  follow  one  of  the  numerous  buffalo-trails, 
believing  that  it  would  conduct  him  to  water  of  some  char- 
acter, —  a  lake  or  pool  or  even  wallow.  He  left  the  train 
alone;  asked  for  no  one  to  accompany  him;  for  he  ,was 
the  very  impersonation  of  courage,  one  of  the  most  fearless 
men  that  ever  trapped  in  the  mountains. 


50  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

He  walked  on  and  on  for  miles,  when,  on  ascending  a 
little  divide,  he  saw  a  stream  in  the  valley  beneath  him. 
It  was  the  Cimarron,  and  he  hurried  toward  it  to  quench 
his  intolerable  thirst.  When  he  arrived  at  its  bank,  to  his 
disappointment  it  was  nothing  but  a  bed  of  sand;  the 
sometime  clear  running  river  was  perfectly  dry. 

Only  for  a  moment  was  he  staggered ;  he  knew  the 
character  of  many  streams  in  the  West ;  that  often  their 
waters  run  under  the  ground  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
surface,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  on  his  knees  digging  vie- 
orously  in  the  soft  sand.  Soon  the  coveted  fluid  began  to 
filter  upwards  into  the  little  excavation  he  had  made.  He 
stooped  to  drink,  and  in  the  next  second  a  dozen  arrows 
from  an  ambushed  band  of  Comanches  entered  his  body. 
He  did  not  die  at  once,  however;  it  is  related  bj_  the  Indians 
themselves  that  he  killed  two  of  their  number  before  death 
laid  him  low. 

Captain  Sublette  and  Smith's  other  comrades  did  not 
know  what  had  become  of  him  until  some  Mexican  traders 
told  them,  having  got  the  report  from  the  very  savages 
who  committed  the  cold-blooded  murder. 

Gregg,  in  his  report  of  this  little  expedition,  says: 
"  Every  kind  of  fatality  seems  to  have  attended  this  small 
caravan.  Among  other  casualties,  a  clerk  in  their  com- 
pany, named  Minter,  was  killed. by  a  band  of  Pawnees, 
before  they  crossed  the  Arkansas.  This,  I  believe,  is  the 
only  instance  of  loss  of  life  among  the  traders  while  en- 
gaged in  hunting,  although  the  scarcity  of  accidents  can 
hardly  be  said  to  be  the  result  of  prudence.  There  is  not 
a  day  that  hunters  do  not  commit  some  indiscretion ;  such 
as  straying  at  a  distance  of  five  and  even  ten  miles  from 
the  caravan,  frequently  alone,  and  seldom  in  bands  of  more 
than  two  or  three  together.  In  this  state,  they  must  fre- 
quently  be  spied  by  prowling  savages ;  so  that  frequency 
of  escape,  under  such  circumstances,  must  be  partly  attrib- 


EARLY   TRADERS  51 

uted  to  the  cowardice  of  the  Indians;  indeed,  generally 
speaking;  the  latter  are  very  loth  to  charge  upon  even  a 
single  armed  man,  unless  they  can  take  him  at  a  decided 
advantage. 

"Not  long  after,  this  hand  of  Captain  Sublette's  very 
narrowly  escaped  total  destruction.  They  had  fallen  in 
with  an  immense  horde  of  Blackfeet  and  Gros  Ventres, 
and,  as  the  traders  were  literally  but  a  handful  among 
thousands  of  savages,  they  fancied  themselves  for  a  while 
in  imminent  peril  of  being  virtually  'eated  up.'  But  as 
Captain  Sublette  possessed  considerable  experience,  he  was 
at  no  loss  how  to  deal  with  these  treacherous  savages ;  so 
that  although  the  latter  assumed  a  threatening  attitude, 
he  passed  them  without  any  serious  molestation,  and  finally 
arrived  at  Santa  Fe  in  safety." 

The  virtual  commencement  of  the  Santa  Ft!  trade  dates 
from  1822,  and  one  of  the  most  remarkable  events  in  its 
history  was  the  first  attempt  to  introduce  wagons  in  the 
expeditions.  This  was  made  in  1824  by  a  company  of 
traders,  about  eighty  in  number,  among  whom  were  several 
gentlemen  of  intelligence  from  Missouri,  who  contributed 
by  their  superior  skill  and  undaunted  energy  to  render  the 
enterprise  completely  successful.  A  portion  of  this  com- 
pany employed  pack-mules ;  among  the  rest  were  owned 
twenty-five  wheeled  vehicles,  of  which  one  or  two  were 
stout  road-wagons,  two  were  carts,  and  the  rest  Dearborn 
carriages,  the  whole  conveying  some  twenty-five  or  thirty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  merchandise.  Colonel  Marma- 
duke,  of  Missouri,  was  one  of  the  party.  This  caravan  ar- 
rived at  Santa  Fe  safely,  experiencing  much  less  difficulty 
than  they  anticipated  from  a  first  attempt  with  wheeled 
vehicles. 

Gregg  continues:  "The  early  voyageurs,  having  but 
seldom  experienced  any  molestation  from  the  Indians, 
generally  crossed  the  plains  in  detached  bands,  each  indi- 


52  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

vidua!  rarely  carrying  more  than  two  or  three  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  stock.  This  peaceful  season,  however, 
did  not  last  very  long;  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that 
the  traders  were  not  always  innocent  of  having  instigated 
the  savage  hostilities  that  ensued  in  after  years.  Many 
seemed  to  forget  the  wholesome  precept,  that  they  should 
not  be  savages  themselves  because  they  dealt  with  savages. 
Instead  of  cultivating  friendly  feelings  with  those  few 
who  remained  peaceful  and  honest,  there  was  an  occasional 
one  always  disposed  to  kill,  even  in  cold  blood,  every 
Indian  that  fell  into  their  power,  merely  because  some  of 
the  tribe  had  committed  an  outrage  either  against  them- 
selves or  friends." 

As  an  instance  of  this,  he  relates  the  following:  "In 
1826  two  J'oung  men  named  McNess  and  Monroe,  having 
carelessly  lain  down  to  sleep  on  the  bank  of  a  certain 
stream,  since  known  as  McNess  Creek,1  were  barbarously 
shot,  with  their  own  guns,  as  it  was  supposed,  in  the  very 
sight  of  the  caravan.  When  their  comrades  came  up,  they 
found  McNess  lifeless,  and  the  other  almost  expiring.  In 
this  state  the  latter  was  carried  nearly  forty  miles  to  the 
Cimarron  River,  where  he  died,  and  was  buried  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  prairies,  a  very  summary  proceeding, 
necessarily.  The  corpse,  wrapped- in  a  blanket,  its  shroud 
the  clothes  it  wore,  is  interred  in  a  hole  varying  in  depth 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  soil,  and  upon  the  grave  is 
piled  stones,  if  any  are  convenient,  to  prevent  the  wolves 
from  digging  it  up.  Just  as  McNess's  funeral  ceremonies 
were  about  to  be  concluded,  six  or  seven  Indians  appeared 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Cimarron.  Some  of  the  party 
proposed  inviting  them  to  a  parley,  while  the  rest,  burning 
for  revenge,  evinced  a  desire  to  fire  upon  them  at  once.  It 
is  more  than  probable,  however,  that  the  Indians  were  not- 

1  McNess  Creek  is  on  the  old  Cimarron  Trail  to  Santa  F6,  a  little 
east  of  a  line  drawn  south  from  Bent's  Fort. 


EARLY   TRADERS  OS 

only  innocent  but  ignorant  of  the  outrage  that  had  been 
committed,  or  they  would  hardly  have  ventured  to  ap- 
proach the  caravan.  Being  quick  of  perception,  they  very 
soon  saw  the  belligerent  attitude  assumed  by  the  company, 
and  therefore  wheeled  round  and  attempted  to  escape. 
One  shot  was  fired,  which  brought  an  Indian  to  the 
ground,  when  he  was  instantly  riddled  with  balls.  Almost 
simultaneously  another  discharge  of  several  guns  followed, 
by  which  all  the  rest  were  either  killed  or  mortally 
wounded,  except  one,  who  escaped  to  bear  the  news  to  his 
tribe. 

"  These  wanton  cruelties  had  a  most  disastrous  effect 
upon  the  prospects  of  the  trade ;  for  the  exasperated 
children  of  the  desert  became  more  and  more  hostile  to  the 
'pale-faces,'  against  whom  they  continued  to  wage  a  cruel 
war  for  many  successive  years.  In  fact  this  party  suffered 
very  severely  a  few  days  afterward.  They  were  pursued 
by  the  enraged  comrades  of  the  slain  savages  to  the 
Arkansas  River,  where  they  were  robbed  of  nearly  a  thou- 
sand horses  and  mules." 

The  author  of  this  book,  although  having  but  little 
compassion  for  the  Indians,  must  admit  that,  during  more 
than  a  third  of  a  century  passed  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
mountains,  he  has  never  known  of  a  war  with  the  hostile 
tribes  that  was  not  caused  by  broken  faith  on  the  part 
of  the  United  States  or  its  agents.  I  will  refer  to  two 
prominent  instances :  that  of  the  outbreak  of  the  Nez 
Perces,  and  that  of  the  allied  plains  tribes.  With  the 
former  a  solemn  treaty  was  made  in  1856,  guaranteeing 
to  them  occupancy  of  the  Wallola  valley  forever.  I.  I. 
Stevens,  who  was  governor  of  Washington  Territory  at  the 
time,  and  ex-officio  superintendent  of  Indian  affairs  in  the 
region,  met  the  Nez  Perces,  whose  chief,  "  Wish-la-no-she," 
an  octogenarian,  when  grasping  the  hand  of  the  governor 
at  the  council  said:   "I  put  out  my  hand  to  the  white  man 


54 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


when  Lewis  and  Clark  crossed  the  continent,  in  1805,  and 
have  never  taken  it  back  since."  The  tribe  kept  its  word 
until  the  white  men  took  forcible  possession  of  the  valley 
promised  to  the  Indians,  when  the  latter  broke  out,  and  a 
prolonged  war  was  the  consequence.  In  1867  Congress 
appointed  a  commission  to  treat  with  the  Cheyennes, 
Kiowas,  and  Arapahoes,  appropriating  four  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  expenses  of  the  commission.  It  met 
at  Medicine  Lodge  in  August  of  the  year  mentioned,  and 
made  a  solemn  treat}7,  which  the  members  of  the  com- 
mission, on  the  part  of  the  United  States,  and  the  principal 
chiefs  of  the  three  tribes  signed.  Congress  failed  to  make 
any  appropriation  to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  treaty, 
and  the  Indians,  after  waiting  a  reasonable  time,  broke 
out,  devastated  the  settlements  from  the  Platte  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  destroying  millions  of  dollars*  worth  of  property, 
and  sacrificing  hundreds  of  men,  women,  and  children. 
Another  war  was  the  result,  which  cost  more  millions,  and 
under  General  Sheridan  the  hostile  savages  were  whipped 
into  a  peace,  which  they  have  been  compelled  to  keep. 


:"-»-x..... 


-A  Cdfdvbn  Corra/ed- 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    ATAJO    OR    PACK-TRAIN    OF    MULES MEXICAN    NOMENCLA- 
TURE    OF     PARAPHERNALIA MANNER      OF      PACKING THE 

"  BELL-MARE  " TOUGHNESS   OF  MULES  AMONG  PRECIPICES 

THE     CARAVAN     OF     WAGONS  —  LARGEST     WAGON-TRAIN    EVER 

ON     THE      PLAINS STAMPEDES DUTIES      OF      PACKERS      EN 

ROUTE ORDER   OF   TRAVELLING   WITH   PACK-TRAIN CHRIS. 

GILSON,    THE    FAMOUS    PACKER 


lermari' 


S  has  been  stated,  until  the 
year  1824  transportation 
across  the  plains  was  done 
by  means  of  jjack-mules, 
the  art  of  proi^erly  load- 
ing which  seems  to  be  an 
intuitive  attribute  of  the 
//  native  Mexican.  The  American, 
'J  of  course,  soon  became  as  expert, 
for  nothing  that  the  genus  homo 
is  capable  of  doing  is  impossi- 
ble to  him  ;  but  his  teacher  was 
the  dark-visaged,  superstitious,  and 
profanity-expending  Mexican  arriero. 
A  description  of  the  equipment  of  a  mule- 
train  and  the  method  of  packing,  together  with  some  of  the 
curious  facts  connected  with  its  movements,  may  not  be 
uninteresting,  particularly  as  the  whole  thing,  with  rare 
exceptions  in  the  regular  army  at  remote  frontier  posts, 
has  been  relegated  to  the  past,  along  with  the  caravan  of  the 


56  THE    OLD    SANTA    FL    TRAIL 

prairie  and  the  overland  coach.  To  this  generation,  bar- 
ring a  few  officers  who  have  served  against  the  Indians  on 
the  plains  and  in  the  mountains,  a  pack-mule  train  would 
be  as  great  a  curiosity  as  the  hairy  mammoth.  In  the  fol- 
lowing particulars  I  have  taken  as  a  model  the  genuine 
Mexican  pack-train  or  atajo,  as  it  was  called  in  their 
Spanish  dialect,  always  used  in  the  early  clays  of  the 
Santa  Y€  trade.  The  Americans  made  many  modifica- 
tions, but  the  basis  was  purely  Mexican  in  its  origin. 
A  pack-mule  was  termed  a  inula  de  carga,  and  his  equip- 
ment consisted  of  several  parts ;  first,  the  saddle,  or 
aparejo,  a  nearly  square  pad  of  leather  stuffed  with  hay, 
which  covered  the  animal's  back  on  both  sides  equally. 
The  best  idea  of  its  shape  will  be  formed  by  opening  a 
book  in  the  middle  and  placing  it  saddle-fashion  on  the 
back  of  a  chair.  Each  half  then  forms  a  flap  of  the  con- 
trivance. Before  the  aparejo  was  adjusted  to  the  mule, 
a  salea,  or  raw  sheep-skin,  made  soft  by  rubbing,  was  put 
on  the  animal's  back,  to  prevent  chafing,  and  over  it  the 
saddle-cloth,  or  xerga.  On  top  of  both  was  placed  the 
aparejo,  which  was  cinched  by  a  wide  grass-bandage. 
This  band  was  drawn  as  tightly  as  possible,  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  poor  brute  grunted  and  groaned  under  the 
apparently  painful  operation,  and  when  fastened  he  seemed 
to  be  cut  in  two.  This  always  appeared  to  be  the  very 
acme  of  cruelty  to  the  uninitiated,  but  it  is  the  secret  of 
successful  packing ;  the  firmer  the  saddle,  the  more  com- 
fortably the  mule  can  travel,  with  less  risk  of  being  chafed 
and  bruised.  The  aparejo  is  furnished  with  a  huge  crup- 
per, and  this  appendage  is  really  the  most  cruel  of  all,  for 
it  is  almost  sure  to  lacerate  the  tail.  Hardly  a  Mexican 
mule  in  the  old  days  of  the  trade  could  be  found  which 
did  not  bear  the  scar  of  this  rude  supplement  to  the  im- 
mense saddle. 

The  load,  which  is  termed  a  carga,  was  generally  three 


f 

''iff  i  pi 

ndin 

jk  j  i  ] 

i     ■ 
of  nnttti 

while  tin?  j 

:  .  •, 

■  ■  : 


al 


A   PACK   TRAIN    TO    SANTA    FE,   1820 


h 


TRAINS    AND    PACKERS  57 

hundred  pounds.  Two  arrieros,  or  packers,  place  the 
goods  on  the  mule's  back,  one,  the  cargador,  standing  on 
the  near  side,  his  assistant  on  the  other.  The  cargo,  is 
then  hoisted  on  top  of  the  saddle  if  it  is  a  single  pack- 
age ;  or  if  there  are  two  of  equal  size  and  weight,  one  on 
each  side,  coupled  by  a  rope,  which  balances  them  on  the 
animal.  Another  stout  rope  is  then  thrown  over  all, 
drawn  as  tightly  as  possible  under  the  belly,  and  laced 
round  the  packs,  securing  them  firmly  in  their  place. 
Over  the  load,  to  protect  it  from  rain,  is  thrown  a  square 
piece  of  matting  called  a  petate.  Sometimes,  when  a  mule 
is  a  little  refractory,  he  is  blindfolded  by  a  thin  piece  of 
leather,  generally  embroidered,  termed  the  tapojos,  and 
he  remains  perfectly  quiet  while  the  process  of  packing 
is  going  on.  When  the  load  is  securely  fastened  in  its 
place,  the  blinder  is  removed.  The  man  on  the  near  side, 
with  his  knee  against  the  mule  for  a  purchase,  as  soon  as 
the  rope  is  hauled  taut,  cries  out  "Adios"  and  his  assistant 
answers  "Vaya!"  Then  the  first  says  again,  "Anda!" 
upon  which  the  mule  trots  off  to  its  companions,  all  of 
which  feed  around  until  the  animals  of  the  whole  train  are 
packed.  It  seldom  requires  more  than  five  minutes  for 
the  two  men  to  complete  the  packing  of  the  animal,  and 
in  that  time  is  included  the  fastening  of  the  aperejo.  It 
is  surprising  to  note  the  degree  of  skill  exercised  by  an 
experienced  packer,  and  his  apparently  abnormal  strength 
in  handling  the  immense  bundles  that  are  sometimes  trans- 
ported. By  the  aid  of  his  knees  used  as  a  fulcrum,  he 
lifts  a  package  and  tosses  it  on  the  mule's  back  without 
any  apparent  effort,  the  dead  weight  of  which  he  could 
not  move  from  the  ground. 

An  old-time  atajo  or  caravan  of  pack-mules  generally 
numbered  from  fifty  to  two  hundred,  and  it  travelled  a 
jornado,  or  day's  inarch  of  about  twelve  or  fifteen  miles. 
This   day's  journey  was  made  without   any  stopping   at 


58  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

noon,  because  if  a  pack-mule  is  allowed  to  rest,  he  gen- 
erally tries  to  lie  down,  and  with  his  heavy  load  it  is 
difficult  for  him  to  get  on  his  feet  again.  Sometimes  he 
is  badly  strained  in  so  doing,  jperhaps  ruined  forever. 
When  the  train  starts  out  on  the  trail,  the  mules  are  so 
tightly  bound  with  the  ropes  which  confine  the  load  that 
they  move  with  great  difficulty ;  but  the  saddle  soon 
settles  itself  and  the  ropes  become  loosened  so  that  they 
have  frequently  to  be  tightened.  On  the  march  the 
arriero  is  kept  busy  nearly  all  the  time ;  the  packs  are 
constantly  changing  their  position,  frequently  losing  their 
balance  and  falling  off;  sometimes  saddle,  pack,  and  all 
swing  under  the  animal's  belly,  and  he  must  be  unloaded 
and  repacked  again. 

On  arriving  at  the  camping-ground  the  pack-saddles 
with  their  loads  are  ranged  in  regular  order,  their  freight 
being  between  the  saddles,  covered  with  the  petates  to 
protect  it  from  the  rain,  and  generally  a  ditch  is  dug 
around  to  carry  off  the  water,  if  the  weather  is  stormy. 
After  two  or  three  days'  travel  each  mule  knows  its  own 
pack  and  saddle,  and  comes  up  to  it  at  the  proper  moment 
with  an  intelligence  that  is  astonishing.  If  an  animal 
should  come  whose  pack  is  somewhere  else,  he  is  soundly 
kicked  in  the  ribs  by  the  rightful  mule,  and  sent  bruised 
and  battered  to  his  place.  -He  rarely  makes  a  mistake  in 
relation  to  the  position  of  his  own  pack  the  second  time. 

This  method  of  transportation  was  so  cheap,  because  of 
the  low  rate  of  wages,  that  wagon-freighting,  even  in  the 
most  level  region,  could  not  compete  with  it.  Five  dollars 
a  month  was  the  amount  paid  to  the  muleteers,  but  it  was 
oftener  five  with  rations,  costing  almost  nothing,  of  corn 
and  beans.  Meat,  if  used  at  all,  was  found  by  the  arrieros 
themselves. 

On  the  trail  the  mule-train  is  under  a  system  of  disci- 
pline almost  as  severe  as  that  on  board  of  a  man-of-war. 


TRAINS   AND   PACKERS  59 

Every  individual  employed  is  assigned  to  his  place  and  has 
certain  duties  to  perform.  There  is  a  night-herder,  called 
the  savanero,  whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  the  animals  from 
straying  too  far  away,  as  they  are  all  turned  loose  to  shift 
for  themselves,  depending  upon  the  grass  alone  for  their 
subsistence.  Each  herd  has  a  mulera,  or  bell-mare,  which 
wears  a  bell  hanging  to  a  strap  around  her  neck,  and  is 
kept  in  view  of  the  other  animals,  who  will  never  leave 
her.  If  the  mare  is  taken  away  from  the  herd,  every 
mule  becomes  really  melancholy  and  is  at  a  loss  what  to 
do  or  where  to  go.  The  cook  of  the  party,  or  madre 
(mother)  as  he  is  called,  besides  his  duty  in  preparing  the 
food,  must  lead  the  bell-mule  ahead  of  the  train  while 
travelling,  the  pack-animals  following  her  with  a  devotion 
that  is  remarkable. 

Sometimes  in  traversing  the  narrow  ledges  cut  around 
the  sides  of  a  precipitous  trail,  or  crossing  a  narrow  natu- 
ral bridge  spanning  the  frightful  gorges  found  everywhere 
in  the  mountains,  a  mule  will  be  incontinently  thrown  off 
the  slippery  path,  and  fall  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  yawn- 
ing canon  below.  Generally  instant  death  is  their  por- 
tion, though  I  recall  an  instance,  while  on  an  expedition 
against  the  hostile  Indians  thirty  jrears  ago,  where  a  num- 
ber of  mules  of  our  pack-train,  loaded  with  ammunition, 
tumbled  nearly  five  hundred  feet  down  an  almost  per- 
pendicular chasm,  and  yet  some  of  them  got  on  their  feet 
again,  and  soon  rejoined  their  companions,  without  having 
suffered  any  serious  injury. 

The  wagons  so  long  employed  in  this  trade,  after  their 
first  introduction  in  182-1,  were  manufactured  in  Pitts- 
burgh, their  capacity  being  about  a  ton  and  a  half,  and 
they  were  drawn  by  eight  mules  or  the  same  number  of 
oxen.  Later  much  larger  wagons  were  employed  with 
nearly  double  the  capacity  of  the  first,  hauled  by  ten  and 
twelve   mules  or  oxen.      These  latter  were  soon  called 


60  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

prairie-schooners,  which  name  continued  to  linger  until 
transportation  across  the  plains  by  wagons  was  completely 
extinguished  by  the  railroads. 

Under  Mexican  rule  excessive  tariff  iuqjosts  were  insti- 
tuted, amounting  to  about  a  hundred  per  cent  upon  goods 
brought  from  the  United  States,  and  for  some  years,  during 
the  administration  of  Governor  Manuel  Armijo,  a  purely 
arbitrary  duty  was  demanded  of  five  hundred  dollars  for 
every  wagon-load  of  merchandise  brought  into  the  Prov- 
ince, whether  great  or  small,  and  regardless  of  its  intrinsic 
value.  As  gold  and  silver  were  paid  for  the  articles 
brought  by  the  traders,  they  were  also  required  to  pay  a 
heavy  duty  on  the  precious  metals  they  took  out  of 
the  country.  Yankee  ingenuity,  however,  evaded  much 
of  these  unjust  taxes.  When  the  caravan  approached 
Santa  Fe,  the  freight  of  three  wagons  was  transferred  to 
one,  and  the  empty  vehicles  destroyed  by  fire ;  while  to 
avoid  paying  the  export  duty  on  gold  and  silver,  they  had 
large  false  axletrees  to  some  of  the  wagons,  in  which  the 
money  was  concealed,  and  the  examining  officer  of  the 
customs,  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  artifice,  passed  them. 

The  army,  in  its  expeditions  against  the  hostile  Indian 
tribes,  always  employed  wagons  in  transporting  its  pro- 
visions and  munitions  of  war,  except  in  the  mountains, 
where  the  faithful  pack-mule  was  substituted.  The 
American  freighters,  since  the  occupation  of  New  Mexico 
by  the  United  States,  until  the  transcontinental  railroad 
usurped  their  vocation,  used  wagons  only  ;  the  Mexican 
nomenclature  was  soon  dropped  and  simple  English  terms 
adopted  :  caravan  became  train,  and  majordomo,  the  per- 
son  in  charge,  wagon-master.  The  latter  was  supreme. 
Upon  him  rested  all  the  responsibility,  and  to  him  the 
teamsters  rendered  absolute  obedience.  He  was  neces- 
sarily a  man  of  quick  perception,  always  fertile  in  expedi- 
ents in  times  of  emergency,  and  something  of  an  engineer ; 


TRAINS   AND   PACKERS  61 

for  to  know  how  properly  to  cross  a  raging  stream  or  a 
marshy  slough  with  an  outfit  of  fifty  or  sixty  wagons  re- 
quired more  than  ordinary  intelligence.  Then  in  the  case 
of  a  stampede,  great  clear-headedness  and  coolness  were 
needed  to  prevent  loss  of  life. 

Stampedes  were  frequently  very  serious  affairs,  par- 
ticularly with  a  large  mule-train.  Notwithstanding  the 
willingness  and  patient  qualities  of  that  animal,  he  can  act 
as  absurdly  as  a  Texas  steer,  and  is  as  easily  frightened 
at  nothing.  Sometimes  as  insignificant  a  circumstance  as 
a  prairie-dog  barking  at  the  entrance  to  his  burrow,  a 
figure  in  the  distance,  or  even  the  shadow  of  a  passing 
cloud  will -start  every  animal  in  the  train,  and  away  they 
go,  rushing  into  each  other,  and  becoming  entangled  in 
such  a  manner  that  both  drivers  and  mules  have  often 
been  crushed  to  death.  It  not  infrequently  happened  that 
five  or  six  of  the  teams  would  dash  off  and  never  could  be 
found.  I  remember  one  instance  that  occurred  on  the 
trail  between  Fort  Hays  and  Fort  Dodge,  during  General 
Sheridan's  winter  campaign  against  the  allied  plains  tribes 
in  1868.  Three  of  the  wagons  were  dragged  away  by  the 
mules,  in  a  few  moments  were  out  of  sight,  and  were  never 
recovered,  although  diligent  search  was  made  for  them  for 
some  days.  Ten  years  afterward  a  farmer,  who  had  taken 
up  a  claim  in  what  is  now  Rush  County,  Kansas,  dis- 
covered in  a  ravine  on  his  place  the  bones  of  some  animals, 
decayed  parts  of  harness,  and  the  remains  of  three  army- 
wagons,  which  with  other  evidence  proved  them  to  be  the 
identical  ones  lost  from  the  train  so  many  years  before. 

The  largest  six-mule  wagon-train  that  was  ever  strung 
out  on  the  plains  transported  the  supplies  for  General 
Custer's  command  during  the  winter  above  referred  to. 
It  comprised  over  eight  hundred  army-wagons,  and  was 
four  miles  in  length  in  one  column,  or  one  mile  when  in 
four  lines,  —  the  usual  formation  when  in  the  field. 


OZ  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

The  animals  of  the  train  were  either  hobbled  or  herded 
at  night,  according  to  the  locality;  if  in  an  Indian  coun- 
try, always  hobbled  or,  preferably,  tied  up  to  the  tongue 
of  the  wagon  to  which  they  belonged.  The  hobble  is 
simply  a  strip  of  rawhide,  with  two  slides  of  the  same 
material.  Placed  on  the  front  legs  of  the  mule  just  at 
the  fetlock,  the  slides  pushed  close  to  the  limb,  the  ani- 
mal could  move  around  freely  enough  to  graze,  but  was 
not  able  to  travel  very  fast  in  the  event  of  a  stampede. 
In  the  Indian  country,  it  was  usual  at  night,  or  in  the 
daytime  when  halting  to  feed,  to  form  a  corral  of  the 
Avagons,  by  placing  them  in  a  circle,  the  wheels  inter- 
locked and  the  tongues  run  under  the  axles,  into  which 
circle  the  mules,  on  the  appearance  of  the  savages,  were 
driven,  and  which  also  made  a  sort  of  fortress  behind 
which  the  teamsters  could  more  effectually  repel  an 
attack. 

In  the  earlier  trading  expeditions  to  Santa  Fe,  the 
formation  and  march  of  the  caravan  differed  materially 
from  that  of  the  army-train  in  later  years.  I  here  quote 
Gregg,  whose  authority  on  the  subject  has  never  been 
questioned.  When  all  was  ready  to  move  nut  on  the 
broad  sea  of  prairie,  he  said :  "  We  held  a  council,  at 
which  the  respective  claims  of  the  different  aspirants  for 
office  were  considered,  leaders  selected,  and  a  system  of 
government  agreed  upon  —  as  is  the  standing  custom  of 
these  promiscuous  caravans.  A  captain  was  proclaimed 
elected,  but  his  powers  Avere  not  defined  by  any  constitu- 
tional provision  ;  consequently,  they  Avere  very  vague  and 
uncertain.  Orders  being  only  viewed  as  mere  requests, 
the}'  are  often  obeyed  or  neglected  at  the  caprice  of  the 
subordinates.  It  is  necessary  to  observe,  however,  that 
the  captain  is  expected  to  direct  the  order  of  traA'el  dur- 
ing the  day  and  to  designate  the  camping-ground  at 
night,  Avith  many  other   functions  of    general   character. 


TRAINS   AND   PACKERS  63 

.  in  the  exercise  of  which  the  company  find  it  convenient 
to  acquiesce. 

"After  this  comes  the  task  of  organizing.  The  pro- 
prietors are  first  notified  by  proclamation  to  furnish  a 
list  of  their  men  and  wagons.  The  latter  are  generally 
apportioned  into  four  divisions,  particularly  when  the 
company  is  large.  To  each  of  these  divisions,  a  lieuten- 
ant is  appointed,  whose  duty  it  is  to  inspect  every  ravine 
and  creek  on  the  route,  select  the  best  crossings,  and 
superintend  what  is  called  in  prairie  parlance  the  form- 
ing of  each  encampment. 

"  There  is  nothing  so  much  dreaded  by  inexperienced 
travellers  as  the  ordeal  of  guard  duty.  But  no  matter 
what  the  condition  or  employment  of  the  individual  may 
be,  no  one  has  the  slightest  chance  of  evading  the  com- 
mon law  of  the  prairies.  The  amateur  tourist  and  the 
listless  loafer  are  precisely  in  the  same  wholesome  pve- 
dicament,  —  they  must  all  take  their  regular  turn  at  the 
watch.  There  is  usually  a  set  of  genteel  idlers  attached 
to  every  caravan,  whose  wits  are  forever  at  work  in  de- 
vising schemes  for  whiling  away  their  irksome  hours  at 
the  expense  of  others.  By  embarking  in  these  trips  of 
pleasure,  they  are  enabled  to  live  without  expense  ;  for 
the  hospitable  traders  seldom  refuse  to  accommodate  even 
a  loafing  companion  with  a  berth  at  their  mess  without 
charge.  But  these  lounging  attaches  are  expected  at  least 
to  do  good  service  by  way  of  guard  duty.  None  are  ever 
permitted  to  furnish  a  substitute,  as  is  frequently  done  in 
military  expeditions  ;  for  he  that  would  undertake  to  stand 
the  tour  of  another  besides  his  own  would  scarcely  be 
watchful  enough  for  dangers  of  the  prairies.  Even  the 
invalid  must  be  able  to  produce  unequivocal  proofs  of 
his  inability,  or  it  is  a  chance  if  the  plea  is  admitted. 

"  The  usual  number  of  watchers  is  eight,  each  standing 
a  fourth  of    every  alternate  night.      When   the  party  is 


64  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE    TRAIL 

small,  the  number  is  generally  reduced,  while  in  the  case 
of  very  small  bands,  they  are  sometimes  compelled  for 
safety's  sake  to  keep  watch  on  duty  half  the  night.  With 
large  caravans  the  captain  usually  appoints  eight  ser- 
geants of  the  guard,  each  of  whom  takes  an  equal  portion 
of  men  under  his  command. 

"  The  wild  and  motley  aspect  of  the  caravan  can  be  but 
imperfectly  conceived  without  an  idea  of  the  costumes  of 
its  various  members.  The  most  fashionable  prairie  dress 
is  the  fustian  frock  of  the  city-bred  merchant,  furnished 
with  a  multitude  of  pockets  capable  of  accommodating  a 
variety  of  extra  tackling.  Then  there  is  the  backwoods- 
man with  his  linsey  or  leather  hunting-shirt  —  the  farmer 
with  his  blue  jean  coat  —  the  wagoner  with  his  flannel 
sleeve  vest  —  besides  an  assortment  of  other  costumes 
which  go  to  fill  up  the  picture. 

"  In  the  article  of  firearms  there  is  also  an  equally  in- 
teresting medley.  The  frontier  hunter  sticks  to  his  rifle, 
as  nothing  could  induce  him  to  carry  what  he  terms  in 
derision  'the  scatter-gun.'  The  sportsman  from  the  in- 
terior flourishes  his  double-barrelled  fowling-piece  with 
equal  confidence  in  its  superiority.  A  great  many  were 
furnished  beside  with  a  bountiful  supply  of  pistols  and 
knives  of  every  description,  so  that  the  party  made  al- 
together a  very  brigand-like  appearance. 

"  '  Catch  up  !  catch  up  !  '  is  now  sounded  from  the  cap- 
tain's camp  and  echoed  from  every  division  and  scattered 
group  along  the  valley.  The  woods  and  dales  resound 
with  the  gleeful  yells  of  the  light-hearted  wagoners  who, 
weary  of  inaction  and  filled  with  joy  at  the  prospect  of 
getting  under  way,  become  clamorous  in  the  extreme. 
Each  teamster  vies  with  his  fellow  who  shall  be  soonest 
ready ;  and  it  is  a  matter  of  boastful  pride  to  be  the  first 
to  cry  out,  'All's  set.' 

"  The  uproarious  bustle  which  follows,  the  hallooing  of 


TRAINS   AND   PACKERS  65 

those  in  pursuit  of  animals,  the  exclamations  which  the 
unruly  brutes  call  forth  from  their  wrathful  drivers,  to- 
gether with  the  clatter  of  bells,  the  rattle  of  yokes  and 
harness,  the  jingle  of  chains,  all  conspire  to  produce  an 
uproarious  confusion.  It  is  sometimes  amusing  to  observe 
the  athletic  wagoner  hurrying  an  animal  to  its  post  —  to 
see  him  heave  upon  the  halter  of  a  stubborn  mule,  while 
the  brute  as  obstinately  sets  back,  determined  not  to 
move  a  peg  till  his  own  good  pleasure  thinks  it  proper  to 
do  so — his  whole  manner  seeming  to  say,  'Wait  till  your 
hurry's  over.'  I  have  more  than  once  seen  a  driver  hitch 
a  harnessed  animal  to  the  halter,  and  by  that  process  haul 
his  mulishness  forward,  while  each  of  his  four  projected 
feet  would  leave  a  furrow  behind. 

"'All's  set ! '  is  finally  heard  from  some  teamster  —  'All's 
set,'  is  directly  responded  from  every  quarter.  '  Stretch 
out  ! '  immediately  vociferates  the  captain.  Then  the 
'heps!  '  to  the  drivers,  the  cracking  of  whips,  the  tram- 
pling of  feet,  the  occasional  creak  of  wheels,  the  rumbling 
of  the  wagons,  while  '  Fall  in '  is  heard  from  head-quar- 
ters, and  the  train  is  strung  out  and  in  a  few  moments  has 
started  on  its  long  journey." 

With  an  army-train  the  discipline  was  as  perfect  as  that 
of  a  garrison.  The  wagon-master  was  under  the  orders 
of  the  commander  of  the  troops  which  escorted  the  cara- 
van, the  camps  were  formed  with  regard  to  strategic  prin- 
ciples, sentries  walked  their  beats  and  were  visited  by  an 
officer  of  the  day,  as  if  stationed  at  a  military  post. 

Unquestionably  the  most  expert  packer  I  have  known 
is  Chris.  Gilson,  of  Kansas.  In  nearly  all  the  expeditions 
on  the  great  plains  and  in  the  mountains  he  has  been  the 
master-spirit  of  the  pack-trains.  General  Sheridan,  who 
knew  Gilson  long  before  the  war,  in  Oregon  and  Wash- 
ington, regarded  the  celebrated  packer  with  more  than 
ordinary  friendship.     For  many  years  he  was  employed 


66 


THE   OLD   SANTA   IE   TRAIL 


by  the  government  at  the  suggestion  of  General  Sheridan, 
to  teach  the  art  of  packing  to  the  officers  and  enlisted 
men  at  several  military  posts  in  the  West.  He  received  a 
large  salary,  and  for  a  long  period  was  stationed  at  the 
immense  cavalry  depot  of  Fort  Riley,  in  Kansas.  Gilson 
was  also  employed  by  the  British  army  during  the  Zulu 
war  in  Africa,  as  chief  packer,  at  a  salary  of  twenty  dollars 
a  day.  Now,  however,  since  the  railroads  have  penetrated 
the  once  considered  impenetrable  fastnesses  of  the  moun- 
tains, packing  will  be  relegated  to  the  lost  arts. 


'■sms^-j.-  J^gf^' — ----- - ■ 

\s<p/leyofJdnJojc  dnd 
%  - ,  bridge  of  fffe  ff/o  Pccoj 


CHAPTER   V 


NARRATIVE    OF    BRYANTS   PARTY   OP  SANTA    FE    TRADERS THE 

FIRST  WAGON  EXPEDITION  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS A  THRILL- 
ING STORY  OF  HARDSHIP  AND  PHYSICAL  SUFFERING TER- 
RIBLE    FIGHT     WITH     THE     COMANCHES  ABANDONMENT     OF 

THE  WAGONS ON  FOOT  OVER  THE  TRAIL BURIAL  OF  THEIR 

SPECIE   ON    AN    ISLAND    IN    THE    ARKANSAS NARRATIVE    OF 

WILLIAM    Y.    HITT,     ONE     OF     THE     PARTY HIS     ENCOUNTER 

WITH  A  COMANCHE THE    FIRST    ESCORT    OF    UNITED    STATES 

TROOPS    TO    THE    ANNUAL    CARAVAN    OF    SANTA    FE    TRADERS, 

IN  1829 MAJOR    BENNETT  RILEY'S    OFFICIAL    REPORT   TO   THE 

WAR    DEPARTMENT JOURNAL    OF    CAPTAIN    COOKE 


m 

IfTc 


spri 


of 
of 


ARLY   in   the 

1828,  a  company 
young  men  residing  in 
the  vicinity  of  Franklin, 
Missouri,  having  heard 
related  by  a  neighbour 
Avho  had  recently  re- 
turned the  wonderful 
story  of  a  passage  across 
the  great  plains,  and  the 
strange  things  to  be  seen 
in  the  land  of  the  Greas- 
ers, determined  to  explore 
the  region  for  themselves; 
making  the  trip  in  wag- 
ons, an  innovation  of  a 
startling  character,  as  heretofore  only  pack-animals  had 
been  employed  in  the  limited  trade  with  far-off  Santa  Fe. 

67 


68  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

The  story  of  their  journey  can  best  be  told  in  the  words  of 
one  of  the  party  : '  — 

"  We  had  about  one  thousand  miles  to  travel,  and  as 
there  was  no  wagon-road  in  those  early  days  across  the 
plains  to  the  mountains,  we  were  compelled  to  take  our 
chances  through  the  vast  wilderness,  seeking  the  best  route 
we  could. 

"  No  signs  of  life  were  visible  except  the  innumerable 
buffalo  and  antelope  that  were  constantly  crossing  our 
trail.  We  moved  on  slowly  from  day  to  da}r  without 
any  incident  worth  recording  and  arrived  at  the  Arkan- 
sas; made  the  passage  and  entered  the  Great  American 
Desert  lying  be3rond,  as  listless,  lonesome,  and  noise- 
less as  a  sleeping  sea.  Having  neglected  to  carry  any 
water  with  us,  we  were  obliged  to  go  without  a  drop  for 
two  days  and  nights  after  leaving  the  river.  At  last  we 
reached  the  Cimarron,  a  cool,  sparkling  stream,  ourselves 
and  our  animals  on  the  point  of  perishing.  Our  joy  at 
discovering  it,  however,  was  short-lived.  We  had  scarcely 
quenched  our  thirst  when  we  saw,  to  our  dismay,  a  large 
band  of  Indians  camped  on  its  banks.  Their  furtive 
glances  at  us,  and  significant  looks  at  each  other,  aroused 
our  worst  suspicions,  and  we  instinctively  felt  we  were 
not  to  get  away  without  serious  trouble.  Contrary  to 
our  expectations,  however,  they  did  not  offer  to   molest 

1  Mr.  Bryant,  of  Kansas,  who  died  a  few  years  ago,  was  one  of  the  pio- 
neers in  the  trade  with  Santa  Fe.  Previous  to  his  decease  he  wrote  for 
a  Kansas  newspaper  a  narrative  of  his  first  trip  across  the  great  plains  ; 
an  interesting  monograph  of  hardship  and  suffering.  For  the  use  of  this 
document  I  am  indebted  to  Hon.  Sol.  Miller,  the  editor  of  the  journal  in 
which  it  originally  appeared.  I  have,  also  used  very  extensively  the  notes 
of  Mr.  William  Y.  Hitt,  one  of  the  Bryant  party,  whose  son  kindly  placed 
them  at  my  disposal,  and  copied  liberally  from  the  official  report  of  Major 
Bennett  Biley,  —  afterward  the  celebrated  general  of  Mexican  War  fame, 
and  for  wdiom  the  Cavalry  Depot  in  Kansas  is  named  ;  as  also  from  the 
journal  of  Captain  Philip  St.  George  Cooke,  who  accompanied  Major 
Riley  on  his  expedition. 


FIGHT  WITH   COMANCHES  69 

us,  and  we  at  once  made  up  our  minds  they  preferred  to 
wait  for  our  return,  as  we  believed  they  had  somehow 
learned  of  our  intention  to  bring  back  from  New  Mexico 
a  large  herd  of  mules  and  ponies. 

"  We  arrived  in  Santa  Fe  on  the  20th  of  July,  with- 
out further  adventure,  and  after  having  our  stock  of  goods 
passed  through  the  custom  house,  were  granted  the  privi- 
lege of  selling  them.  The  majority  of  the  party  sold  out 
in  a  very  short  time  and  started  on  their  road  to  the 
States,  leaving  twenty-one  of  us  behind  to  return  later. 

"  On  the  first  day  of  September,  those  of  us  who  had 
remained  in  Santa  Fe  commenced  our  homeward  journey. 
We  started  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  mules  and  horses, 
four  wagons,  and  a  large  amount  of  silver  coin.  Nothing 
of  an  eventful  character  occurred  until  we  arrived  at  the 
Upper  Cimarron  Springs,  where  we  intended  to  encamp 
for  the  night.  But  our  anticipations  of  peaceable  repose 
were  rudely  dispelled ;  for  when  Ave  rode  up  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill,  the  sight  that  met  our  eyes  was  appalling 
enough  to  excite  the  gravest  apprehensions.  It  was  a 
large  camp  of  Comanches,  evidently  there  for  the  purpose 
of  robbery  and  murder.  We  could  neither  turn  back  nor 
go  on  either  side  of  them  on  account  of  the  mountainous 
character  of  the  country,  and  we  realized,  when  too  late, 
that  we  were  in  a  trap. 

"  There  was  only  one  road  open  to  us  ;  that  right  through 
the  camp.  Assuming  the  bravest  look  possible,  and  keeping 
our  rifles  in  position  for  immediate  action,  we  started  on 
the  perilous  venture.  The  chief  met  us  with  a  smile  of 
welcome,  and  said,  in  Spanish :  '  You  must  stay  with  us 
to-night.  Our  young  men  will  guard  }Tour  stock,  and  we 
have  plenty  of  buffalo  meat.' 

"  Realizing  the  danger  of  our  situation,  we  took  advan- 
tage of  every  moment  of  time  to  hurry  through  their  camp. 
Captain  Means,  Ellison,  and  myself  were  a  little  distance 


70  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

behind  the  wagons,  on  horseback;  observing  that  the  balance 
of  our  men  were  evading  them,  the  blood-thirsty  savages 
at  once  threw  off  their  masks  of  dissimulation  and  in  an 
instant  we  knew  the  time  for  a  struggle  had  arrived. 

"The  Indians,  as  we  rode  on,  seized  our  bridle-reins  and 
began  to  fire  upon  us.  Ellison  and  I  put  spurs  to  our 
horses  and  got  away,  but  Captain  Means,  a  brave  man, 
was  ruthlessly  shot  and  cruelly  scalped  while  the  life-blood 
was  pouring  from  his  ghastly  wounds. 

"  We  succeeded  in  fighting  them  off  until  we  had  left 
their  camp  half  a  mile  behind,  and  as  darkness  had  settled 
down  on  us,  we  decided  to  go  into  camp  ourselves.  We 
tied  our  gray  bell-mare  to  a  stake,  and  went  out  and  jingled 
the  bell,  whenever  any  of  us  could  do  so,  thus  keeping  the 
animals  from  stampeding.  We  corralled  our  wagons  for 
better  protection,  and  the  Indians  kept  us  busy  all  night 
resisting  their  furious  charges.  We  all  knew  that  death  at 
our  posts  would  be  infinitely  preferable  to  falling  into  their 
hands ;  so  we  resolved  to  sell  our  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 

"  The  next  day  we  made  but  five  miles ;  it  was  a 
continuous  fight,  and  a  very  difficult  matter  to  prevent 
their  capturing  us.  This  annoyance  was  kept  up  for  four 
days ;  they  would  surround  us,  then  let  up  as  if  taking 
time  to  renew  their  strength,  to  suddenly  charge  upon  us 
again,  and  they  continued  thus  to  harass  us  until  we  were 
almost  exhausted  from  loss  of  sleep. 

"  After  leaving  the  Cimarron,  we  once  more  emerged  on 
the  open  plains  and  flattered  ourselves  we  were  well  rid  of 
the  savages ;  but  about  twelve  o'clock  they  came  down 
on  us  again,  uttering  their  demoniacal  yells,  which  fright- 
ened our  horses  and  mules  so  terribly,  that  we  lost  every 
hoof.  A  member  of  our  party,  named  Hitt,  in  endeavouring 
to  recapture  some  of  the  stolen  stock,  was  taken  by  the 
savages,  but  luckily  escaped  from  their  clutches,  after  hav- 
ing been  wounded  in  sixteen  parts  of  his  body  ;  he  was 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  71 

shot,  tomahawked,  and  speared.  When  the  painted  demons 
saw  that  one  of  their  number  had  been  killed  by  us,  they 
left  the  field  for  a  time,  while  we,  taking  advantage  of  the 
temporary  lull,  went  back  to  our  wagons  and  built  breast- 
works of  them,  the  harness,  and  saddles.  From  noon  until 
two  hours  in  the  night,  when  the  moon  went  down,  the 
savages  were  apparently  confident  we  would  soon  fall  a 
prey  to  them,  and  they  made  charge  after  charge  upon  our 
rude  fortifications. 

"  Darkness  was  now  upon  us.  There  were  two  alterna- 
tives before  us :  should  we  resolve  to  die  where  we  were, 
or  attempt  to  escape  in  the  black  hours  of  the  night?  It 
was  a  desperate  situation.  Our  little  band  looked  the 
matter  squarely  in  the  face,  and,  after  a  council  of  war  had 
been  held,  we  determined  to  escape,  if  possible. 

"  In  order  to  carry  out  our  resolve,  it  was  necessary  to 
abandon  the  wagons,  together  with  a  large  amount  of  silver 
coin,  as  it  would  be  impossible  to  take  all  of  the  precious 
stuff  with  us  in  our  flight ;  so  we  {Hacked  up  as  much  of  it 
as  we  could  carry,  and,  bidding  our  hard-earned  wealth  a 
reluctant  farewell,  stepped  out  in  the  darkness  like  spectres 
and  hurried  away  from  the  scene  of  death. 

"  Our  proper  course  was  easterly,  but  we  went  in  a 
northerly  direction  in  order  to  avoid  the  Indians.  We 
travelled  all  that  night,  the  next  day,  and  a  portion  of  its 
night  until  we  reached  the  Arkansas  River,  and,  having 
eaten  nothing  during  that  whole  time  excepting  a  few 
prickly-pears,  were  beginning  to  feel  weak  from  the  weight 
of  our  burdens  and  exhaustion.  At  this  point  we  decided 
to  lighten  our  loads  by  burying  all  of  the  money  we  had 
carried  thus  far,  keeping  onhT  a  small  sum  for  each  man. 
Proceeding  to  a  small  island  in  the  river,  our  treasure, 
amounting  to  over  ten  thousand  silver  dollars,  was  cached 
in  the  ground  between  two  cottonwood  trees. 

"  Believing  now  that  we  were  out  of  the  usual  range  of 


72  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

the  predatory  Indians,  we  shot  a  huffalo  and  an  antelope 
which  we  cooked  and  ate  without  salt  or  bread ;  but  no 
meal  has  ever  tasted  better  to  me  than  that  one. 

"  We  continued  our  journey  northward  for  three  or  four 
days  more,  when,  reaching  Pawnee  Fork,  we  travelled 
down  it  for  more  than  a  week,  arriving  again  on  the  Old 
Santa  Fe  Trail.  Following  the  Trail  three  days,  we  arrived 
at  Walnut  Creek,  then  left  the  river  again  and  went  east- 
wardly  to  Cow  Creek.  When  we  reached  that  point,  we 
had  become  so  completely  exhausted  and  worn  out  from  sub- 
sisting on  buffalo  meat  alone,  that  it  seemed  as  if  there  was 
nothing  left  for  us  to  do  but  lie  down  and  die.  Finally  it 
was  determined  to  send  five  of  the  best-preserved  men  on 
ahead  to  Independence,  two  hundred  miles,  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  assistance ;  the  other  fifteen  to  get  along  as 
well  as  they  could  until  succour  reached  them. 

"  I  was  one  of  the  five  selected  to  go  on  in  advance,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  the  terrible  suffering  we  endured.  We 
had  no  blankets,  and  it  was  getting  late  in  the  fall.  Some 
of  us  were  entirely  barefooted,  and  our  feet  so  sore  that 
we  left  stains  of  blood  at  every  step.  Deafness,  too,  seized 
upon  us  so  intensely,  occasioned  by  our  weak  condition,  that 
we  could  not  hear  the  report  of  a  gun  fired  at  a  distance 
of  only  a  few  feet. 

"  At  one  place  two  of  our  men  laid  down  their  arms, 
declaring  they  could  carry  them  no  farther,  and  would 
die  if  they  did  not  get  water.  We  left  them  and  went  in 
search  of  some.  After  following  a  dry  branch  several  miles, 
we  found  a  muddy  puddle  from  which  we  succeeded  in 
getting  half  a  bucket  full,  and,  although  black  and  thick, 
it  was  life  for  us  and  we  guarded  it  with  jealous  eyes. 
We  returned  to  our  comrades  about  daylight,  and  the 
water  so  refreshed  them  they  were  able  to  resume  the 
weary  march.  We  travelled  on  until  we  arrived  at  the  Big 
Blue  River,  in  Missouri,  on  the  bank  of  which  we  discov- 


FIGHT    WITH   COMANCHES  73 

ered  a  cabin  about  fifteen  miles  from  Independence.  The 
occupants  of  the  rude  shanty  were  women,  seemingly  very 
poor,  but  they  freely  offered  us  a  pot  of  pumpkin  they 
were  stewing.  When  they  first  saw  us,  they  were  terribly 
frightened,  because  we  looked  more  like  skeletons  than 
living  beings.  They  jumped  on  the  bed  while  we  were 
greedily  devouring  the  pumpkin,  but  we  had  to  refuse 
some  salt  meat  which  they  had  also  proffered,  as  our  teeth 
were  too  sore  to  eat  it.  In  a  short  time  two  men  came  to 
the  cabin  and  took  three  of  our  men  home  with  them.  We 
had  subsisted  for  eleven  days  on  one  turkey,  a  coon,  a 
crow,  and  some  elm  bark,  with  an  occasional  bunch  of  wild 
grapes,  and  the  pictures  we  presented  to  these  good  people 
they  will  never,  probably,  forget ;  we  had  not  tasted  bread 
or  salt  for  thirty-two  daj'S. 

"  The  next  day  our  newly  found  friends  secured  horses 
and  guided  us  to  Independence,  all  riding  without  saddles. 
One  of  the  party  had  gone  on  to  notify  the  citizens  of  our 
safety,  and  when  we  arrived  general  muster  was  going  on, 
the  town  was  crowded,  and  when  the  people  looked  upon 
us  the  most  intense  excitement  prevailed.  All  business 
was  suspended ;  the  entire  pojDulation  flocked  around  us 
to  hear  the  remarkable  story  of  our  adventures,  and  to 
render  us  the  assistance  we  so  much  needed.  We  were 
half-naked,  foot-sore,  and  haggard,  presenting  such  a  piti- 
able picture  that  the  greatest  sympathy  was  immediately 
aroused  in  our  behalf. 

"  We  then  said  that  behind  us  on  the  Trail  some- 
where, fifteen  comrades  were  struggling  toward  Indepen- 
dence, or  were  already  dead  from  their  sufferings.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  seven  men  with  fifteen  horses  started 
out  to  rescue  them. 

"  They  were  gone  from  Independence  several  days,  but 
had  the  good  fortune  to  find  all  the  men  just  in  time  to 
save    them   from   starvation   and  exhaustion.     Two   were 


74  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

discovered  a  hundred  miles  from  Independence,  and  the 
remainder  scattered  along  the  Trail  fifty  miles  further  in 
their  rear.  Not  more  than  two  of  the  unfortunate  party 
were  together.  The  humane  rescuers  seemingly  brought 
back  nothing  but  living  skeletons  wrapped  in  rags ;  but 
the  good  people  of  the  place  vied  with  each  other  in  their 
attentions,  and  under  their  watchful  care  the  sufferers 
rapidly  recuperated. 

"One  would  suppose  that  we  had  had  enough  of  the 
great  plains  after  our  first  trip  ;  not  so,  however,  for  in 
the  spring  we  started  again  on  the  same  journey.  Major 
Riley,  with  four  companies  of  regular  soldiers,  was  de- 
tailed to  escort  the  Santa  Fe  traders'  caravans  to  the 
boundary  line  between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  and 
we  went  along  to  recover  the  money  we  had  buried,  the 
command  having  been  ordered  to  remain  in  camp  to  await 
our  return  until  the  20th  of  October. 

"We  left  Fort  Leavenworth  about  the  10th  of  May,  and 
were  soon  again  on  the  plains.  Many  of  the  troops  had 
never  seen  any  buffalo  before,  and  found  great  sport  in 
wantonly  slaughtering  them.  At  Walnut  Creek  we  halted 
to  secure  a  cannon  which  had  been  thrown  into  that 
stream  two  seasons  previously,  and  succeeded  in  dragging 
it  out.  With  a  seine  made  of  brush  and  grape  vine,  we 
caught  more  fine  fish  than  we  could  possibly  dispose  of. 
One  morning  the  camp  was  thrown  into  the  greatest  state 
of  excitement  by  a  band  of  Indians  running  an  enormous 
herd  of  buffalo  right  into  us.  The  troops  fired  at  them 
by  platoons,  killing  hundreds  of  them. 

"  We  marched  in  two  columns,  and  formed  a  hollow 
square  at  night  when  we  camped,  in  which  all  slept  ex- 
cepting those  on  guard  duty.  Frequently  some  one  would 
discover  a  rattlesnake  or  a  horned  toad  in  bed  with  him, 
and  it  did  not  take  him  a  very  long  time  to  crawl  out  of 
his  blankets ! 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  75 

"  On  the  10th  of  July,  we  arrived  at  the  dividing  line 
separating  the  two  countries,  and  went  into  camp.  The 
next  day  Major  Riley  sent  a  squad  of  soldiers  to  escort 
myself  and  another  of  our  old  part)-,  who  had  helped  bury 
the  ten  thousand  dollars,  to  find  it.  It  was  a  few  miles 
further  up  the  Arkansas  than  our  camp,  in  the  Mexican 
limits,  and  when  we  reached  the  memorable  spot  on  the 
island,1  we  found  the  coin  safe,  but  the  water  had  washed 
the  earth  away,  and  the  silver  was  exposed  to  view  to  ex- 
cite the  cupidity  of  any  one  passing  that  way  ;  there  were 
not  many  travellers  on  that  lonely  route  in  those  days, 
however,  and  it  would  have  been  just  as  secure,  probably, 
had  we  simply  poured  it  on  the  ground. 

"  We  put  the  money  in  sacks  and  deposited  it  with  Major 
Riley,  and,  leaving  the  camp,  started  for  Santa  Fe  with 
Captain  Bent  as  leader  of  the  traders.  We  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  when  our  advanced  guard  met  Indians.  They 
turned,  and  when  within  two  hundred  yards  of  us,  one  man 
named  Samuel  Lamme  was  killed,  his  bod)7  being  completely 
riddled  with  arrows.  His  head  was  cut  off,  and  all  his 
clothes  stripped  from  his  body.  We  had  a  cannon,  but 
the  Mexicans  who  hauled  it  had  tied  it  up  in  such  a  way 
that  it  could  not  be  utilized  in  time  to  effect  anything  in 
the  first  assault ;  but  when  at  last  it  was  turned  loose  upon 
the  Indians,  they  fled  in  dismay  at  the  terrible  noise. 

"  The  troops  at  the  crossing  of  the  Arkansas,  hearing  the 
firing,  came  to  our  assistance.  The  next  morning  the  hills 
were  covered  by  fully  two  thousand  Indians,  who  had  evi- 
dently congregated  there  for  the  purpose  of  annihilating 
us,  and  the  coming  of  the  soldiers  was  indeed  fortunate ; 
for  as  soon  as  the  cowardly  savages  discovered  them  they 
fled,  Major  Riley  accomjjanied  us  on  our  march  for  a  few 
days,  and,  seeing  no  more  Indians,  he  returned  to  his  camp. 

"  We  travelled  on  for  a  week,  then  met  a  hundred  Mexi- 
1  Chouteau's  Island,  at  the  mouth  of  Sand  Creek. 


TG  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

cans  who  were  out  on  the  plains  hunting  buffalo.  They 
had  killed  a  great  many  and  were  drying  the  meat.  We 
waited  until  they  were  ready  to  return  and  then  all  started 
for  Santa  Fe  together. 

"At  Rabbit-Ear  Mountain  the  Indians  had  constructed 
breastworks  in  the  brush,  intending  to  fight  it  out  there. 
The  Mexicans  were  in  the  advance  and  had  one  of  their 
number  killed  before  discovering  the  enemy.  We  passed 
Point  of  Rocks  and  camped  on  the  river.  One  of  the 
Mexicans  went  out  hunting  and  shot  a  huge  panther; 
next  morning  he  asked  a  companion  to  go  with  him  and 
help  skin  the  animal.  They  saw  the  Indians  in  the  brush, 
and  the  one  who  had  killed  the  panther  said  to  the  other, 
'Now  for  the  mountains';  but  his  comrade  retreated,  and 
was  despatched  by  the  savages  almost  within  reach  of  the 
column. 

"We  now  decided  to  change  our  destination,  intending 
to  oro  to  Taos  instead  of  Santa  Fe,  but  the  p-overnor  of  the 
Province  sent  out  troops  to  stop  us,  as  Taos  was  not  a 
place  of  entry.  The  soldiers  remained  with  us  a  whole 
week,  until  we  arrived  at  Santa  F6",  where  we  disposed 
of  our  goods  and  soon  began  to  make  preparations  for  our 
return  trip. 

"  When  we  were  ready  to  start  back,  seven  priests  and 
a  number  of  wealthy  families,  comfortably  fixed  in  car- 
riages, accompanied  us.  The  Mexican  government  or- 
dered Colonel  Viscarra  of  the  army,  with  five  troops  of 
cavalry,  to  guard  us  to  the  camp  of  Major  Riley. 

"  We  experienced  no  trouble  until  we  arrived  at  the 
Cimarron  River.  About  sunset,  just  as  we  were  prepar- 
ing to  camp  for  the  night,  the  sentinels  saw  a  body  of 
a  hundred  Indians  approaching ;  they  fired  at  them  and 
ran  to  camp.  Knowing  they  had  been  discovered,  the 
Indians  came  on  and  made  friendly  overtures ;  but  the 
Pueblos  who  were  with  the  command  of  Colonel  Viscarra 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  77 

wanted  to  fight  them  at  once,  saying  the  fellows  meant 
mischief.  We  declined  to  camp  with  them  unless  they 
would  agree  to  give  up  their  arms ;  they  pretended  they 
were  willing  to  do  so,  when  one  of  them  put  his  gun  at 
the  breast  of  our  interpreter  and  pulled  the  trigger.  In 
an  instant  a  bloody  scene  ensued  :  several  of  Viscarra's 
men  were  killed,  together  with  a  number  of  mules.  Finally 
the  Indians  were  whipped  and  tried  to  get  away,  but  we 
chased  them  some  distance  and  killed  thirty-five.  Our 
friendly  Pueblos  were  delighted,  and  proceeded  to  scalp 
the  savages,  hanging  the  bloody  trophies  on  the  points  of 
their  spears.  That  night  they  indulged  in  a  war-dance 
which  lasted  until  nearly  morning. 

"  We  were  delighted  to  see  a  beautiful  sunshiny  day 
after  the  horrors  of  the  preceding  night,  and  continued  our 
march  without  farther  interruption,  safely  arriving  at  the 
camp  on  the  boundary  line,  where  Major  Riley  was  waiting 
for  us,  as  we  supposed ;  but  his  time  having  expired  the 
day  before,  he  had  left  for  Fort  Leavenworth.  A  courier 
was  despatched  to  him,  however,  as  Colonel  Viscarra 
desired  to  meet  the  American  commander  and  see  his 
troops.  The  courier  overtook  Major  Riley  a  short  distance 
away,  and  he  halted  for  us  to  come  up.  Both  commands 
then  went  into  camp,  and  spent  several  days  comparing  the 
discipline  of  the  armies  of  the  two  nations,  and  having  a 
general  good  time.  Colonel  Viscarra  greatly  admired  our 
small  arms,  and  took  his  leave  in  a  very  courteous  manner. 

"  We  arrived  at  Fort  Leavenworth  late  in  the  season, 
and  from  there  we  all  scattered.  I  received  my  share  of 
the  money  we  had  cached  on  the  island,  and  bade  my  com- 
rades farewell,  only  a  few  of  whom  I  have  ever  seen 
since." 

Mr.  Hitt  in  his  notes  of  this  same  perilous  trip  says: 
"  When  the  grass  had  sufficiently  started  to  insure  the 
subsistence  of  our  teams,  our  wagons  were  loaded  with  a 


78  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

miscellaneous  assortment  of  merchandise  and  the  first 
trader's  caravan  of  wagons  that  ever  crossed  the  plains 
left  Independence.  Before  we  had  travelled  three  weeks 
on  our  journey,  we  were  one  evening  confronted  with 
the  novel  fact  of  camping  in  a  country  where  not  a 
stick  of  wood  could  be  found.  The  grass  was  too  green 
to  burn,  and  we  were  wondering  how  our  fire  could  be 
started  with  which  to  boil  our  coffee,  or  cook  our  bread. 
One  of  our  number,  however,  while  diligently  searching 
for  something  to  utilize,  suddenly  discovered  scattered  all 
around  him  a  large  quantity  of  buffalo-chips,  and  he  soon 
had  an  excellent  fire  under  way,  his  coffee  boiling  and  his 
bacon  sizzling  over  the  glowing  coals. 

"  We  arrived  in  Santa  Fe  without  incident,  and  as  ours 
was  the  first  train  of  wagons  that  ever  traversed  the  nar- 
row streets  of  the  quaint  old  town,  it  was,  of  course,  a 
great  curiosity  to  the  natives. 

"  After  a  few  days'  rest,  sight-seeing,  and  purchasing 
stock  to  replace  our  own  jaded  animals,  preparations  were 
made  for  the  return  trip.  All  the  money  we  had  received 
for  our  goods  was  in  gold  and  silver,  principally  the  latter, 
in  consequence  of  which,  each  member  of  the  company  had 
about  as  much  as  he  could  convenientlj'  manage,  and,  as 
events  turned  out,  much  more  than  he  could  take  care  of. 

"  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  out,  when  we  were  not 
looking  for  the  least  trouble,  our  entire  herd  was  stampeded, 
and  we  were  left  upon  the  prairie  without  as  much  as  a 
single  mule  to  pursue  the  fast-fleeing  thieves.  The  Mexi- 
cans and  Indians  had  come  so  suddenly  upon  us,  and  had 
made  such  an  effective  dash,  that  we  stood  like  children 
who  had  broken  their  toys  on  a  stone  at  their  feet.  We 
were  so  unprepared  for  such  a  stampede  that  the  thieves 
did  not  approach  within  rifle-shot  range  of  the  camp  to 
accomplish  their  object ;  few  of  them  coming  within  sight, 
even. 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  79 

"After  the  excitement  had  somewhat  subsided  and  we 
began  to  realize  what  had  been  done,  it  was  decided 
that  while  some  should  remain  to  guard  the  camp,  others 
must  go  to  Santa  Fe  to  see  if  they  could  not  recover  the 
stock.  The  party  that  went  to  Santa  Fe  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  recognizing  the  stolen  animals  ;  but  when  they 
claimed  them,  they  were  laughed  at  by  the  officials  of  the 
place.  They  experienced  no  difficulty,  however,  in  pur- 
chasing the  same  stock  for  a  small  sum,  which  the}7  at 
once  did,  and  hurried  back  to  camp.  By  this  unpleasant 
episode  we  learned  of  the  stealth  and  treachery  of  the 
miserable  people  in  whose  country  we  were.  We,  there- 
fore, took  every  precaution  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the 
affair,  and  kept  up  a  vigilant  guard  night  and  day. 

"  Matters  progressed  very  well,  and  when  we  had  trav- 
elled some  three  hundred  miles  eastwardly,  thinking  we 
were  out  of  range  of  any  predatory  bands,  as  we  had  seen 
no  sign  of  any  living  thing,  we  relaxed  our  vigilance  some- 
what. One  morning,  just  before  dawn,  the  whole  earth 
seemed  to  resound  with  the  most  horrible  noises  that  ever 
greeted  human  ears;  every  blade  of  grass  appeared  to  re- 
echo the  horrid  din.  In  a  few  moments  every  man  was 
at  his  post,  rifle  in  hand,  ready  for  any  emergency,  and 
almost  immediately  a  large  band  of  Indians  made  their 
appearance,  riding  within  rifle-shot  of  the  wagons.  A 
continuous  battle  raged  for  several  hours,  the  savages  dis- 
charging a  shot,  then  scampering  off  out  of  range  as  fast 
as  their  ponies  could  carry  them.  Some,  more  brave  than 
others,  would  venture  closer  to  the  corral,  and  one  of  these 
got  the  contents  of  an  old-fashioned  flint-lock  musket  in 
his  bowels." 

"  We  were  careful  not  all  to  fire  at  the  same  time,  and 
several  of  our  part)7,  who  were  watching  the  effects  of  our 
shots,  declared  they  could  see  the  dust  fly  out  of  the  robes 
of  the  Indians  as  the  bullets  struck  them.     It  was  learned 


80  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

afterward  that  a  number  of  the  savages  were  wounded, 
and  that  several  had  died.  Many  were  armed  with  bows 
and  arrows  only,  and  in  order  to  do  any  exeeution  were 
obliged  to  come  near  the  corral.  The  Indians  soon  discov- 
ered they  were  getting  the  worst  of  the  fight,  and,  having 
run  off  all  the  stock,  abandoned  the  conflict,  leaving  us 
in  possession  of  the  camp,  but  it  can  hardly  be  said  mas- 
ters of  the  situation. 

"  There  we  were :  thirty-five  pioneers  upon  the  wild 
prairie,  surrounded  by  a  wily  and  terribly  cruel  foe,  with- 
out transportation  of  any  character  but  our  own  legs,  and 
with  five  hundred  miles  of  dangerous,  trackless  waste  be- 
tween us  and  the  settlements.  We  bad  an  abundance  of 
money,  but  the  stuff  was  absolutely  worthless  for  the 
present,  as  there  was  nothing  we  could  buy  with  it. 

"  After  the  last  savage  had  ridden  away  into  the  sand 
hills  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  each  one  of  us  had 
a  thrilling  story  to  relate  of  his  individual  narrow  escapes. 
Though  none  was  killed,  many  received  wounds,  the 
scars  of  which  they  carried  through  life.  I  was  wounded 
six  times.  Once  was  in  the  thigh  by  an  arrow,  and  once 
while  loading  my  rifle  I  had  my  ramrod  shot  off  close  to 
the  muzzle  of  my  piece,  the  ball  just  grazing  my  shoulder, 
tearing  away  a  small  portion  of  the  skin.  Others  had 
equally  curious  experiences,  but  none  were  seriously  in- 
jured. 

"  After  the  excitement  incident  to  the  battle  had  sub- 
sided, the  realization  of  our  condition  fully  dawned  upon 
us.  When  we  were  first  robbed,  we  were  only  a  short 
distance  from  Santa  Fe,  where  our  money  easily  procured 
other  stock  ;  now  there  were  three  hundred  miles  behind  us 
to  that  place,  and  the  picture  was  anything  but  pleasant  to 
contemplate.  To  transport  supplies  for  thirty-five  men 
seemed  impossible.  Our  money  was  now  a  burden  greater 
than  we  could  bear;  what  was  to  be  done  with  it?    We 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  81 

would  have  no  use  for  it  on  our  way  to  the  settlements, 
yet  the  idea  of  abandoning  it  seemed  hard  to  accept.  A 
vigilant  guard  was  kept  up  that  day  and  night,  during 
which  time  we  all  remained  in  camp,  fearing  a  renewal  of 
the  attack. 

"  The  next  morning,  as  there  were  no  apparent  signs  of 
the  Indians,  it  was  decided  to  reconnoitre  the  surrounding 
country  in  the  hope  of  recovering  a  portion,  at  least,  of  our 
lost  stock,  which  we  thought  might  have  become  separated 
from  the  main  herd.  Three  men  were  detailed  to  stay  in 
the  old  camp  to  guard  it  while  the  remainder,  in  squads, 
scoured  the  hills  and  ravines.  Not  a  horse  or  mule  was 
visible  anywhere;  the  stampede  had  been  complete  —  not 
even  the  direction  the  animals  had  taken  could  be  dis- 
covered. 

"  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I,  having  left  my 
companions  to  continue  the  search  and  returning  to  camp 
alone,  had  gotten  within  a  mile  of  it,  that  I  thought 
I  saw  a  horse  feeding  upon  an  adjoining  hill.  I  at  once 
turned  my  steps  in  that  direction,  and  had  proceeded  but 
a  short  distance  when  three  Indians  jumped  from  their 
ambush  in  the  grass  between  me  and  the  wagons  and  ran 
after  me.  The  men  in  camp  had  been  watching  my  every 
movement,  and  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  savages  were  chas- 
ing me,  they  started  in  pursuit,  running  at  their  greatest 
speed  to  my  rescue. 

"  The  savages  sooii  overtook  me,  and  the  first  one  that 
came  up  tackled  me,  but  in  an  instant  found  himself  flat 
on  the  ground.  Before  he  could  get  up,  the  second  one 
shared  the  same  fate.  By  this  time  the  third  one  arrived, 
and  the  two  I  had  thrown  grabbed  me  by  the  legs  so  that 
I  could  no  longer  handle  myself,  while  the  third  one  had  a 
comparatively  easy  task  in  pushing  me  over.  Fortunately, 
my  head  fell  toward  the  camp  and  my  fast-approaching  com- 
rades.    The  two  Indians  held  my  legs  to  prevent  my  ris- 


82  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

ing,  while  the  third  one,  who  was  standing  over  me,  drew 
from  his  belt  a  tomahawk,  and  shrugging  his  head  in  his 
blanket,  at  the  same  time  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  my 
friends,  with  a  tremendous  effort  and  that  peculiar  grunt 
of  all  savages,  plunged  his  hatchet,  as  he  supposed,  into 
my  head,  but  instead  of  scuffling  to  free  myself  and  rise  to 
my  feet,  I  merely  turned  my  head  to  one  side  and  the  wicked 
weapon  was  buried  in  the  ground,  just  grazing  my  ear. 

"  The  Indian,  seeing  that  he  had  missed,  raised  his 
hatchet  and  once  more  shrugging  his  head  in  his  blanket, 
and  turning  to  look  over  his  other  shoulder,  attempted  to 
strike  again,  but  the  blow  was  evaded  by  a  sudden  toss  of 
his  intended  victim's  head.  Not  satisfied  with  two  abortive 
trials,  the  third  attempt  must  be  made  to  brain  me,  and 
repeating  the  same  motions,  with  a  great  '  Ugh ! '  he 
seemed  to  put  all  his  strength  into  the  blow,  which, 
like  the  others,  missed,  and  spent  its  force  in  the  earth. 
By  this  time  the  rescuing  party  had  come  near  enough 
to  prevent  the  savage  from  risking  another  effort,  and 
he  then  addressed  the  other  Indians  in  Spanish,  which 
I  understood,  saying,  '  We  must  run  or  the  Americans 
will  kill  us!'  and  loosening  his  grasp,  he  scampered  off 
with  his  companions  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  take  him, 
hurried  on  by  several  pieces  of  lead  fired  from  the  old  flint- 
locks of  the  traders. 

"  By  sundown  every  man  had  returned  to  the  forlorn 
camp,  but  not  an  animal  had  been  recovered.  Then,  with 
tired  limbs  and  weary  hearts,  we  took  turns  at  guarding 
the  wagons  through  the  long  night.  The  next  morning 
each  man  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  having  had  his  propor- 
tion of  the  provisions  and  cooking  utensils  assigned  him, 
we  broke  camp,  and  again  turned  to  take  a  last  look 
at  the  country  behind  us,  in  which  we  had  experienced  so 
much  misfortune,  and  started  on  foot  for  our  long  march 
through  the  dangerous  region  ahead  of  us. 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  83 

"  Scarcely  had  we  gotten  out  of  sight  of  our  abandoned 
camp,  when  one  of  the  party,  happening  to  turn  his  eyes 
in  that  direction,  saw  a  large  volume  of  smoke  rising  in 
the  vicinity ;  then  we  knew  that  all  of  our  wagons,  and 
everything  we  had  been  forced  to  leave,  were  burning  up. 
This  proved  that,  although  we  had  been  unable  to  discover 
any  signs  of  Indians,  they  had  been  lurking  around  us  all 
the  time,  and  this  fact  warned  us  to  exercise  the  utmost 
vigilance  in  guarding  our  persons. 

"  Though  our  burdens  were  very  heavy,  the  first  few 
days  were  passed  without  anything  to  relieve  the  dread- 
ful monotony  of  our  wearisome  march;  but  each  succeed- 
ing twenty-four  hours  our  loads  became  visibly  lighter,  as 
our  supplies  were  rapidly  diminishing.  It  had  already 
become  apparent  that  even  in  the  exercise  of  the  greatest 
frugality,  our  stock  of  provisions  would  not  last  until 
we  could  reach  the  settlements,  so  some  of  the  most 
expert  shots  were  selected  to  hunt  for  game  ;  but  even  in 
this  they  were  not  successful,  the  very  birds  seeming  to 
have  abandoned    the  country  in  its    extreme    desolation. 

"After  eight  days'  travel,  despite  our  most  rigid  econ- 
omy, an  inventory  showed  that  there  was  less  than  one 
hundred  pounds  of  flour  left.  Day  after  day  the  hun- 
ters repeated  the  same  old  story  :  '  No  game  !  '  For  two 
weeks  the  allowance  of  flour  to  each  individual  was  but 
a  spoonful,  stirred  in  water  and  taken  three  times  a  da}T. 

"  One  afternoon,  however,  fortune  smiled  upon  the  weary 
party ;  one  of  the  hunters  returned  to  camp  with  a  turkey 
he  had  killed.  It  was  soon  broiling  over  a  fire  which  will- 
ing hands  had  kindled,  and  our  drooping  spirits  were  re- 
vived for  a  while.  While  the  turkey  was  cooking,  a  crow 
flew  over  the  camp,  and  one  of  the  company,  seizing  a  gun, 
despatched  it,  and  in  a  few  moments  it,  too,  was  sizzling 
along  with  the  other  bird. 

"  Now,  in  addition  to  the  pangs  of  hunger,  a  scarcity  of 


84  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

water  confronted  us,  and  one  day  we  were  compelled  to 
resort  to  a  buffalo-wallow  and  suck  the  moist  clay  where 
the  huge  animals  had  been  stamping  in  the  mud.  We 
were  much  reduced  in  strength,  yet  each  day  added  new 
difficulties  to  our  forlorn  situation.  Some  became  so  weak 
and  exhausted  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  effort  they 
could  travel  at  all.  To  divide  the  company  and  leave  the 
more  feeble  behind  to  starve,  or  to  be  murdered  by  the 
merciless  savages,  was  not  considered  for  a  moment ;  but 
one  alternative  remained,  and  that  was  speedily  accepted. 
As  soon  as  a  convenient  camping-ground  could  be  found, 
a  halt  was  made,  shelter  established,  and  things  made  as 
comfortable  as  possible.  Here  the  weakest  remained  to 
rest,  while  some  of  the  strongest  scoured  the  surrounding 
country  in  search  of  game.  During  this  temporary  halt 
the  hunters  were  more  successful  than  before,  having  killed 
two  buffaloes,  besides  some  smaller  animals,  in  one  morn- 
ing. Again  the  natural  dry  fuel  of  the  prairies  was  called 
into  requisition,  and  juicy  steak  was  once  more  broiling 
over  the  lire. 

"  With  an  abundance  to  eat  and  a  few  daj's'  rest,  the 
whole  company  revived  and  were  enabled  to  renew  their 
march  homeward.  We  were  now  in  the  buffalo  range, 
and  every  day  the  hunters  were  fortunate  enough  to  kill 
one  or  more  of  the  immense  animals,  thus  keeping  our 
larder  in  excellent  condition,  and  starvation  averted. 

"  Doubting  whether  our  good  fortune  in  relation  to 
food  would  continue  for  the  remainder  of  our  march,  and 
our  money  becoming  very  cumbersome,  it  was  decided  by 
a  majority  that  at  the  first  good  place  we  came  to  we 
would  bury  it  and  risk  its  being  stolen  by  our  enemies. 
When  not  more  than  half  of  our  journey  had  been  accom- 
plished, we  came  to  an  island  in  the  river  to  which  we 
waded,  and  there,  between  two  large  trees,  dug  a  hole  and 
deposited  our  treasure.     We  replaced  the  sod  over  the 


FIGHT    WITH   COMANCHES  85 

spot,  taking  the  utmost  precaution  to  conceal  every  sign 
of  having  disturbed  the  ground.  Though  no  Indians  had 
been  seen  for  several  days,  a  sharp  lookout  was  kept  in  all 
directions  for  fear  that  some  lurking  savage  might  have 
been  watching  our  movements.  This  task  finished,  with 
much  lighter  burdens,  but  more  anxious  than  ever,  we 
again  took  up  our  march  eastwardly,  and,  thus  relieved, 
were  able  to  carry  a  greater  quantity  of  provisions. 

"  Having  journeyed  until  we  supposed  we  were  within 
a  few  miles  of  the  settlements,  some  of  our  number, 
scarcely  able  to  travel,  thought  the  best  course  to  pursue 
would  be  to  divide  the  company  ;  one  portion  to  press  on, 
the  weaker  ones  to  proceed  by  easier  stages,  and  when  the 
advance  arrived  at  the  settlements,  they  were  to  send 
back  a  relief  for  those  plodding  on  wearily  behind  them. 
■  Soon  a  few  who  were  stronger  than  the  others  reached 
Independence,  Missouri,  and  immediately  sent  a  party 
with  horses  to  bring  in  their  comrades  ;  so,  at  last,  all  got 
safely  to  their  homes." 

In  the  spring  of  1829,  Major  Bennett  Riley  of  the 
United  States  army  was  ordered  with  four  companies  of 
the  Sixth  Regular  Infantry  to  march  out  on  the  Trail  as 
the  first  military  escort  ever  sent  for  the  protection  of  the 
caravans  of  traders  going  and  returning  between  West- 
ern Missouri  and  Santa  Fe.  Captain  Philip  St.  George 
Cooke,  of  the  Dragoons,  accompanied  the  command,  and 
kept  a  faithful  journal  of  the  trip,  from  which,  and  the 
official  report  of  Major  Riley  to  the  Secretary  of  War,  I 
have  interpolated  here  copious  extracts. 

The  journal  of  Captain  Cooke  states  that  the  battalion 
marched  from  Fort  Leavenworth,  which  was  then  called  a 
cantonment,  and,  strange  to  say,  had  been  abandoned  by 
the  Third  Infantry  on  account  of  its  unhealthiness.  It 
was  the  5th  of  June  that  Riley  crossed  the  Missouri  at 
the  cantonment,  and  recrossed  the  river  again  at  a  point  a 


86  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

little  above  Independence,  in  order  to  avoid  the  Kaw,  or 
Kansas,  which  had  no  ferry. 

After  live  days1  marching,  the  command  arrived  at 
Hound  Grove,  where  the  caravan  had  been  ordered  to 
rendezvous  and  wait  for  the  escort.  The  number  of 
traders  aggregated  about  seventy-nine  men,  and  their 
train  consisted  of  thirty-eight  wagons  drawn  by  mules 
and  horses,  the  former  preponderating.  Five  days'  march- 
ing, at  an  average  of  fifteen  miles  a  day,  brought  them  to 
Council  Grove.  Leaving  the  Grove,  in  a  short  time  Cow 
Creek  was  readied,  which  at  that  date  abounded  in  fish  ; 
many  of  which,  says  the  journal,  "  weighed  several  pounds, 
and  were  caught  as  fast  as  the  line  could  be  handled." 
The  captain  does  not  describe  the  variety  to  which  he 
refers  ;  probably  they  were  the  buffalo.  —  a  species  of 
sucker,  to  be  found  to-day  in  ever_y  considerable  stream 
in  Kansas. 

Having  reached  the  Upper  Valley,1  bordered  by  high 
sand  hills,  the  journal  continues:  "From  the  tops  of  the 
hills,  we  saw  far  away,  in  almost  every  direction,  mile 
after  mile  of  prairie,  blackened  with  buffalo.  One  morn- 
ing, when  our  march  was  along  the  natural  meadows  by 
the  river,  we  passed  through  them  for  miles ;  they  opened 
in  front  and  closed  continually  in  the  rear,  preserving  a 
distance  scarcely  over  three  hundred  paces.  On  one  occa- 
sion, a  bull  had  approached  within  two  hundred  yards 
without  seeing  us,  until  he  ascended  the  river  bank ;  he 
stood  a  moment  shaking  his  head,  and  then  made  a  charge 
at  the  column.  Several  officers  stepped  out  and  fired  at 
him,  two  or  three  dogs  also  rushed  to  meet  him ;  but  right 
onward  he  came,  snorting  blood  from  mouth  and  nostril 
at  every  leap,  and,  with  the  speed  of  a  horse  and  the 
momentum  of  a  locomotive,  dashed  between  two  wagons, 
which  the  frightened  oxen  nearly  upset ;  the  clogs  were  at 
1  Valley  of  the  Upper  Arkansas. 


FIGHT    WITH   COMANCHES  87 

his  heels  and  soon  he  came  to  bay,  and,  with  tail  erect, 
kicked  violently  for  a  moment,  and  then  sank  in  death,  — 
the  muscles  retaining  the  dying  rigidity  of  tension." 

About  the  middle  of  July,  the  command  arrived  at 
its  destination,  —  Chouteau's  Island,  then  on  the  boundary 
line  between  the  United  States  and  New  Mexico.  "  Our 
orders  were  to  march  no  further ;  and,  as  a  protection  to 
the  trade,  it  was  like  the  establishment  of  a  ferry  to  the 
mid-channel  of  a  river. 

"  Up  to  this  time,  traders  had  always  used  mules  or 
horses.  Our  oxen  were  an  experiment,  and  it  succeeded 
admirably ;  they  even  did  better  when  water  was  very 
scarce,  which  is  an  important  consideration. 

"  A  few  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  trading  com- 
pany, as  we  enjoyed  a  quiet  rest  on  a  hot  afternoon,  we 
saw  beyond  the  river  a  number  of  horsemen  riding  furi- 
ously toward  our  camp.  We  all  flocked  out  of  the  tents 
to  hear  the  news,  for  they  were  soon  recognized  as 
traders.  They  stated  that  the  caravan  had  been  at- 
tacked, about  six  miles  off  in  the  sand  hills,  by  an 
innumerable  host  of  Indians ;  that  some  of  their  com- 
panions had  been  killed ,  and  they  had  run,  of  course,  for 
help.  There  was  not  a  moment's  hesitation ;  the  word 
was  given,  and  the  tents  vanished  as  if  by  magic.  The 
oxen  which  were  grazing  near  by  were  speedily  yoked  to 
the  wagons,  and  into  the  river  we  marched.  Then  I 
deemed  myself  the  most  unlucky  of  men ;  a  day  or  two 
before,  while  eating-  my  breakfast,  with  my  coffee  in  a 
tin  cup, —  notorious  among  chemists  and  campaigners  for 
keeping  it  hot,  —  it  was  upset  into  my  shoe,  and  on  pull- 
ing off  the  stocking,  it  so  happened  that  the  skin  came 
with  it.  Being  thus  hors  de  combat,  I  sought  to  enter 
the  combat  on  a  horse,  which  was  allowed ;  but  I  was 
put  in  command  of  the  rear  guard  to  bring  up  the  bag- 
gage train.     It  grew  late,  and  the  wagons  crossed  slowly  ; 


88  THE   OLD   SANTA   TE   TRAIL 

for  the  river  unluckily  took  that  particular  time  to  rise 
fast,  and,  before  all  were  over,  we  had  to  swim  it,  and  by 
moonlight.  We  reached  the  encampment  at  one  o'clock 
at  night.  All  was  quiet,  and  remained  so  until  dawn, 
when,  at  the  sound  of  our  bugles,  the  pickets  reported 
they  saw  a  number  of  Indians  moving  off.  On  looking 
around  us,  we  perceived  ourselves  and  the  caravan  in  the 
most  unfavorable  defenceless  situation  possible,  —  in  the 
area  of  a  natural  amphitheatre  of  sand  hills,  about  fifty 
feet  high,  and  within  gun-shot  all  around.  There  was 
the  narrowest  practicable  entrance  and  outlet. 

"  We  ascertained  that  some  mounted  traders,  in  spite 
of  all  remonstrance  and  command,  had  ridden  on  in  ad- 
vance, and  when  in  the  narrow  pass  beyond  this  spot, 
had  bten  suddenly  beset  by  about  fifty  Indians  ;  all  tied 
and  escaped  save  one,  who,  mounted  on  a  mule,  was 
abandoned  by  his  companions,  overtaken,  and  slain.  The 
Indians,  perhaps,  equalled  the  traders  in  number,  but, 
notwithstanding  their  extraordinary  advantage  of  ground, 
dared  not  attack  them  when  they  made  a  stand  among 
their  wagons ;  and  the  latter,  all  well  armed,  were  afraid 
to  make  a  single  charge,  which  would  have  scattered  their 
enemies  like  sheep. 

•'  Having  buried  the  poor  fellow's  body,  and  killed  an 
ox  for  breakfast,  we  left  this  sand  hollow,  which  would 
soon  have  been  roasting  hot,  and  advancing  through  the 
defile  —  of  which  we  took  care  to  occupy  the  commanding 
ground  —  proceeded  to  escort  the  traders  at  least  one 
day's  march  further. 

"  When  the  next  morning  broke  clear  and  cloudless, 
the  command  was  confronted  by  one 'of  those  terrible 
hot  winds,  still  frequent  on  the  plains.  The  oxen  with 
lolling  tongues  were  incapable  of  going  on ;  the  train 
was  halted,  and  the  suffering  animals  unyoked,  but  they 
stood  motionless,  making  no  attempt  to  graze.     Late  that 


FIGHT   WITH   COMANCHES  89 

afternoon,  the  caravan  pushed  on  for  about  ten  miles, 
where  was  the  sandy  bed  of  a  dry  creek,  and  fortunately, 
not  far  from  the  Trail,  up  the  stream,  a  pool  of  water  and 
an  acre  or  two  of  grass  was  discovered.  On  the  surface 
of  the  water  floated  thick  the  dead  bodies  of  small  fish, 
which  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun  that  day  had  killed. 

"Arriving  at  this  point,  it  was  determined  to  march 
no  further  into  the  Mexican  territory.  At  the  first  light 
next  day  we  were  in  motion  to  return  to  the  river  and 
the  American  line,  and  no  further  adventure  befell  us." 

While  permanently  encamped  at  Chouteau's  Island, 
which  is  situated  in  the  Arkansas  River,  the  term  of  enlist- 
ment of  four  of  the  soldiers  of  Captain  Cooke's  command 
expired,  and  they  were  discharged.  In  his  journal  lie 
says  :  "  Contrary  to  all  advice  they  determined  to  return 
to  Missouri.  After  having  marched  several  hundred 
miles  over  a  prairie  country,  being  often  on  high  hills 
commanding  a  vast  prospect,  without  seeing  a  human  be- 
ing or  a  sign  of  one,  and,  save  the  trail  we  followed,  not 
the  slightest  indication  that  the  country  had  ever  been 
visited  by  man,  it  was  exceedingly  difficult  to  credit  that 
lurking  foes  were  around  us,  and  spying  our  motions.  It 
was  so  With  these  men  ;  and  being  armed,  they  set  out  on 
the  first  of  August  on  foot  for  the  settlements.  That 
same  night  three  of  the  four  returned.  They  reported 
that,  after  walking  about  fifteen  miles,  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  thirty  mounted  Indians.  A  wary  old  soldier 
of  their  number  succeeded  in  extricating  them  before  any 
hostile  act  had  been  committed ;  but  one  of  them,  highly 
elated  and  pleased  at  their  forbearance,  insisted  on  return- 
ing among  them  to  give  them  tobacco  and  shake  hands. 
In  this  friendly  act  he  was  shot  down.  The  Indians 
stripped  him  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  and  as  quickly 
dispersed  to  avoid  a  shot ;  and  the  old  soldier,  after  cau- 
tioning the  others  to  reserve  their  fire,  fired  among  them, 


90  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

and  probably  with  some  effect.  Had  the  others  done  the 
same,  the  Indians  would  have  rushed  upon  them  before 
they  could  have  reloaded.  They  managed  to  make  good 
their  retreat  in  safety  to  our  camp. 

"  We  were  instructed  to  wait  here  for  the  return  of  the 
caravan,  which  was  expected  early  in  October.  Our  pro- 
visions consisted  of  salt  and  half  rations  of  flour,  besides 
a  reserve  of  fifteen  days'  full  rations,  —  as  to  the  rest,  we 
were  dependent  upon  hunting.  When  the  buffalo  became 
scarce,  or  the  grass  bad,  we  marched  to  other  ground,  thus 
roving  up  and  down  the  river  for  eighty  miles.  The  first 
thing  we  did  after  camping  was  to  dig  and  construct, 
with  flour  barrels,  a  well  in  front  of  each  company";  water 
was  always  found  at  the  depth  of  from  two  to  four  feet, 
varying  with  the  corresponding  height  of  the  river,  but 
clear  and  cool.  Next  we  would  build  sod  fire-places ; 
these,  with  network  platforms  of  buffalo  hide,  used  for 
smoking  and  drying  meat,  formed  a  tolerable  additional 
defence,  at  least  against  mounted  men. 

"  Hunting  was  a  military  duty,  done  by  detail,  parties 
of  fifteen  or  twenty  going  out  with  a  wagon.  Completely 
isolated,  and  beyond  support  or  even  communication,  in 
the  midst  of  many  thousands  of  Indians,  the  utmost  vigi- 
lance was  maintained.  Officer  of  the  guard  every  fourth 
night,  I  was  always  awake  and  generally  in  motion  the 
whole  time  of  duty.  Night  alarms  were  frequent ;  when, 
as  we  all  slept  in  our  clothes,  Ave  were  accustomed  to 
assemble  instantly,  and  with  scarcely  a  word  spoken,  take 
our  places  in  the  grass  in  front  of  each  face  of  the  camp, 
where,  however  wet,  we  sometimes  lay  for  hours. 

"  While  encamped  a  few  miles  below  Chouteau's  Island, 
on  the  eleventh  of  August,  an  alarm  was  given,  and  we 
were  under  arms  for  an  hour  until  daylight.  During  the 
morning,  Indians  were  seen  a  mile  or  two  off,  leading 
their  horses   through   the   ravines.      A  captain,  however, 


FIGHT    WITH   COMANCHES  91 

with  eighteen  men  was  sent  across  the  river  after  buffalo, 
which  we  saw  half  a  mile  distant.  In  his  absence,  a  large 
body  of  Indians  came  galloping  down  the  river,  as  if  to 
charge  the  camp,  but  the  cattle  were  secured  in  good  time. 
A  company,  of  which  I  was  lieutenant,  was  ordered  to 
cross  the  river  and  support  the  first.  We  waded  in  some 
disorder  through  the  quicksands  and  current,  and  just  as 
we  neared  a  dry  sandbar  in  the  middle,  a  volley  was  fired 
at  us  by  a  band  of  Indians,  who  that  moment  rode  to  the 
water's  edge.  The-  balls  whistled  very  near,  but  without 
damage  ;  I  felt  an  involuntary  twitch  of  the  neck,  and 
wishing  to  return  the  compliment  instantly,  I  stooped 
down,  and  the  company  fired  over  my  head,  with  what 
execution  was  not  perceived,  as  the  Indians  immediately 
retired  out  of  our  view.  This  had  passed  in  half  a  min- 
ute, and  we  were  astonished  to  see,  a  little  above,  among 
some  bushes  on  the  same  bar,  the  party  we  had  been  sent 
to  support,  and  we  heard  that  they  had  abandoned  one  of 
the  hunters,  who  had  been  killed.  We  then  saw,  on  the 
bank  we  had  just  left,  a  formidable  body  of  the  enemy  in 
close  order,  and  hoping  to  surprise  them,  we  ascended  the 
bed  of  the  river.  In  crossing  -the  channel  we  were  up  to 
the  arm-pits,  but  when  we  emerged  on  the  bank,  we  found 
that  the  Indians  had  detected  the  movement,  and  retreated. 
Casting  eyes  beyond  the  river,  I  saw  a  number  of  the  In- 
dians riding  on  both  sides  of  a  wagon  and  team  which  had 
been  deserted,  urging  the  animals  rapidly  toward  the  hills. 
At  this  juncture  the  adjutant  sent  an  order  to  cross  and 
recover  the  body  of  the  slain  hunter,  who  was  an  old  sol- 
dier and  a  favourite.  He  was  brought  in  with  an  arrow 
still  transfixing  his  breast,  but  his  scalp  was  gone. 

"  On  the  fourteenth  of  October,  we  again  marched  on 
our  return.  Soon  after,  we  saw  smokes  arise  over  the  dis- 
tant hills  ;  evidently  signals,  indicating  to  different  parties 
of  Indians  our  separation  and  march,  but  whether  prepara- 


92 


THE    OLD    SANTA    FE   TRAIL 


tory  to  an  attack  upon  the  Mexicans  or  ourselves,  or  rather 
our  immense  drove  of  animals,  we  could  only  guess. 

"  Our  march  was  constantly  attended  by  great  collec- 
tions of  buffalo,  which  seemed  to  have  a  general  muster, 
perhaps  for  migration.  Sometimes  a  hundred  or  two  —  a 
fragment  from  the  multitude  —  would  approach  within 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  of  the  column,  and  threaten  a 
charge  which  would  have  proved  disastrous  to  the  mules 
and  their  drivers. 

"  Under  the  friendly  cover  of  the  shades  of  evening, 
on  the  eighth  of  November,  our  tatterdemalion  veterans 
marched  into  Fort  Leavenworth,  and  took  quiet  possession 
of  the  miserable  huts  and  sheds  left  by  the  Third  Infantry 
in  the  preceding  May." 


VMMSWiMMM 


Sf/ecrJccnc  in  5m1d  tc 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   EXPEDITION   OF  TEXANS  TO  THE   OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL  FOR 

THE     PURPOSE    OF    ROBBING    MEXICAN     TRADERS INNOCENT 

CITIZENS      OF      THE     UNITED     STATES     SUSPECTED,     ARRESTED, 

AND    CARRIED    TO    THE    CAPITAL    OF    NEW   MEXICO COLONEL 

snively's  FORCE  —  warfield's  SACKING  OF  THE  VILLAGE 
OF  MORA ATTACK  UPON  A  MEXICAN  CARAVAN KIT  CAR- 
SON   IN    THE    FIGHT A    CRIME    OF    OVER    SIXTY    YEARS    AGO 

—  A    ROMANCE    OF    THE   TRAGEDY 


S  early  as  November,  1842, 
a  rumour  was  current  in 
Santa  Fe,  and  along  the 
line  of  the  Trail,  that 
parties  of  Texans  had 
left  the  Republic,  for  the 
purpose  of  attacking  and 
robbing  the  caravans  to 
the  United  States  which 
were  owned  wholly  by 
Mexicans.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  several 
Americans  were  accused 
of  being  spies  and  act- 
ing in  collusion  with  the 
Texans  ;  many  were  arrested  and  carried  to  Santa  Fe,  but 
nothing  could  be  proved  against  them,  and  the  rumours 
of  the  intended  purposes  of  the  Texans  died  out. 

Very  early  in  May,  however,  of  the  following  year,  1843, 
a  certain  Colonel  Snively  did  organize  a  small  force,  com- 

93 


94  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

prising  about  two  hundred  men,  which  he  led  from  North- 
ern Texas,  his  home,  to  the  line  of  the  Trail,  with  the 
intention  of  attacking  and  robbing  the  Mexican  caravans 
which  were  expected  to  cross  the  plains  that  month  and 
in  June. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  Arkansas  River,  he  was  there 
reinforced  by  another  Texan  colonel,  named  Warfield, 
with  another  small  command.  Gregg  says  :  "  This  officer, 
with  about  twenty  men,  had  some  time  previously  attacked 
the  village  of  Mora,  on  the  Mexican  frontier,  killing  five 
men,  and  driving  off  a  number  of  horses.  They  were 
afterward  followed  by  a  party  of  Mexicans,  however,  who 
stampeded  and  carried  away,  not  only  their  own  horses, 
but  those  of  the  Texans.  Being  left  afoot,  the  latter 
burned  their  saddles,  and  walked  to  Bent's  Fort,  where 
they  were  disbanded  ;  whence  Warfield  passed  to  Snively's 
camp,  as  before  mentioned. 

"  The  Texans  now  advanced  along  the  Santa  Fe  Trail, 
beyond  the  sand  hills  south  of  the  Arkansas,  when  they 
discovered  that  a  party  of  Mexicans  had  passed  toward 
the  river.  They  soon  came  upon  them,  and  a  skirmish 
ensuing,  eighteen  Mexicans  were  killed,  and  as  many 
wounded,  five  of  whom  afterward  died.  The  Texans  suf- 
fered no  injury,  though  the  Mexicans  were  a  hundred  in 
number.  The  rest  were  all  taken  prisoners  except  two, 
who  escaped  and  bore  the  news  to  General  Armijo,  who 
was  encamped  with  a  large  force  at  Cold  Spring,  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  miles  beyond." 

Kit  Carson  figured  conspicuously  in  this  fight,  or, 
rather,  immediately  afterward.  His  recital  differs  some- 
what from  Gregg's  account,  but  the  stories  substantially 
agree.  Kit  said  that  in  April,  previously  to  the  assault 
upon  Armijo's  caravan,  he  had  hired  out  as  hunter 
to  Bent's  and  Colonel  St.  Vrain's  train  caravan,  which 
was  then  making  its  annual  tour  eastwardly.      AVhen  he 


A   ROMANTIC   TRAGEDY  95 

arrived  at  the  crossing  of  Walnut  Creek,1  lie  found  the 
encampment  of  Captain  Philip  St.  George  Cooke,  of  the 
United  States  army,  who  had  been  detailed  with  his  com- 
mand to  escort  the  caravans  to  the  New  Mexican  boundary. 
His  force  consisted  of  four  troops  of  dragoons.  The  cap- 
tain informed  Carson  that  coming  on  behind  him  from 
the  States  was  a  caravan  belonging  to  a  very  wealthy 
Mexican. 

It  was  a  richly  loaded  train,  and  in  order  to  insure  its 
better  protection  while  passing  through  that  portion  of 
the  country  infested  by  the  blood-thirsty  Comanches  and 
Apaches,  the  majordomo  in  charge  had  hired  one  hun- 
dred Mexicans  as  a  guard.  The  teamsters  and  others 
belonging  to  the  caravan  had  heard  that  a  large  body 
of  Texans  were  lying  in  wait  for  them,  and  intended  to 
murder  and  plunder  them  in  retaliation  for  the  way 
Armijo  had  treated  some  Texan  prisoners  he  had  got  in 
his  power  at  Santa  Fe  some  time  before.  Of  course,  it 
was  the  duty  of  the  United  States  troops  to  escort  this 
caravan  to  the  New  Mexico  line,  but  there  their  duty 
would  end,  as  they  had  no  authority  to  cross  the  border. 
The  Mexicans  belonging  to  the  caravan  were  afraid  they 
would  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  Texans  after  they  had  parted 
company  with  the  soldiers,  and  when  Kit  Carson  met 
them,  they,  knowing  the  famous  trapper  and  mountaineer 
well,  asked  him  to  take  a  letter  to  Armijo,  who  was  then 
governor  of  New  Mexico,  and  resided  in  Santa  Fe,  for 
which  service  they  would  give  him  three  hundred  dollars 
in  advance.  The  letter  contained  a  statement  of  the  fears 
they  entertained,  and  requested  the  general  to  send  Mexi- 
can troops  at  once  to  meet  them. 

Carson,  who  was  then  not  blessed  with  much  money, 
eagerly  accepted  the  task,  and  immediately  started  on  the 

1  About  three  miles  east  of  the  town  of  Great  Bend,  Barton  County, 
Kansas. 


96  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

trail  for  Bent's  Fort,  in  company  with"  another  old  moun- 
taineer and  bosom  friend  named  Owens.  In  a  short  time 
they  arrived  at  the  Fort,  where  Owens  decided  not  to  go 
any  further,  because  they  were  informed  by  the  men  at 
Bent's  that  the  Utes  had  broken  out,  and  were  scattered 
along  the  Trail  at  the  most  dangerous  points,  and  he  was 
fearful  that  his  life  would  be  endangered  if  he  attempted 
to  make  Santa  Fe. 

Kit,  however,  nothing  daunted,  and  determined  to  do 
the  duty  for  which  he  had  been  rewarded  so  munificently, 
started  out  alone  on  his  perilous  trip.  Mr.  Bent  kindly 
furnished  him  with  the  best  and  fastest  horse  he  had  in  his 
stables,  but  Kit,  realizing  the  dangers  to  which  he  would 
be  exposed,  walked,  leading  his  animal,  ready  to  mount 
him  at  a  moment's  notice  ;  thus  keeping  him  in  a  condi- 
tion that  would  enable  Carson  to  fly  and  make  his  escape 
if  the  savages  tried  to  capture  him.  His  knowledge  of 
the  Indian  character,  and  wonderful  alertness  in  moments 
of  peril,  served  him  well ;  for  he  reached  the  village  of 
the  hostile  Indians  without  their  discovering  his  prox- 
imity. Hiding  himself  in  a  rocky,  bush-covered  canon, 
he  stayed  there  until  night  came  on,  when  he  continued 
his  journey  in  the  darkness.  ( 

He  took  the  trail  to  Taos,  where  he  arrived  in  two  or 
three  days,  and  presented  his  letter  to  the  alcalde,  to  be 
sent  on  to  Santa  Fe  by  special  messenger. 

He  was  to  remain  at  Taos  until  an  answer  from  the 
governor  arrived,  and  then  return  with  it  as  rapidly  as 
possible  to  the  train.  While  at  Taos,  he  was  informed 
that  Armijo  had  already  sent  out  a^  company  of  one  hun- 
dred soldiers  to  meet  the  caravan,  and  was  to  follow  in 
person,  with  a  thousand  more. 

This  first  hundred  were  those  attacked  by  Colonel 
Snively,  as  related  by  Gregg,  who  says  that  two  sur- 
vived, who  carried  the  news  of  the  disaster  to  Armijo  at 


A   ROMANTIC   TRAGEDY  97 

Cold  Spring  ;  but  Carson  told  me  that  only  one  got  away, 
by  successfully  catching,  during  the  heat  of  the  fight,  a 
Texan  pony  already  saddled,  that  was  grazing  around 
loose.  With  him  he  made  Armijo's  camp  and  related  to 
the  Mexican  general  the  details  of  the  terribly  unequal 
battle.  Armijo,  upon  receipt  of  the  news,  "turned  tail," 
and  retreated  to  Santa  Fe. 

Before  Armijo  left  Santa  Fe  with  his  command,  he  had 
received  the  letter  which  Carson  had  brought  from  the 
caravan,  and  immediately  sent  one  in  reply  for  Carson  to 
carry  back,  thinking  that  the  old  mountaineer  might 
reach  the  wagons  before  he  did.  Carson,  with  his  usual 
promptness,  started  on  the  Trail  for  the  caravan,  and 
came  up  with  it  while  it  was  escorted  by  the  dragoons, 
thus  saving  it  from  the  fate  that  the  Texans  intended  for 
it,  as  they  dared  not  attempt  any  interference  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  United  States  troops. 

The  rumour  current  in  Santa  Fe  in  relation  to  a  prob- 
able raid  of  parties  of  Texans  along  the  line  of  the  Trail, 
for  the  purpose  of  attacking  and  robbing  the  caravans  of 
the  wealthy  Mexican  traders,  was  received  with  so  little 
credence  by  the  prominent  citizens  of  the  country,  that 
several  native  trains  left  for  the  Missouri  River  without 
their  proprietors  having  the  slightest  apprehension  that 
they  would  not  reach  their  destination,  and  make  the 
return  trip  in  safety. 

Among  those  who  had  no  fear  of  marauders  was  Don 
Antonio  Jose  Chavez,  who,  in  February,  1843,  left  Santa 
Fe  for  Independence  with  an  outfit  consisting  of  a  num- 
ber of  wagons,  his  private  coach,  several  servants  and 
other  retainers.  Don  Antonio  was  a  very  wealthy  Mexi- 
can engaged  in  a  general  mercantile  business  on  a  large 
scale  in  Albuquerque,  who  made  all  his  purchases  of 
goods  in  St.  Louis,  which  was  then  the  depot  of  supplies 
for  the  whole  mountain  region.     He  necessarily  carried 

H 


98  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

with  him  on  these  journeys  a  large  amount  of  money,  in 
silver,  which  was  the  legal  currency  of  the  country,  and 
made  but  one  trip  yearly  to  replenish  the  stock  of  goods 
required  in  his  extensive  trade  in  all  parts  of  Mexico. 

Upon  his  arrival  at  Westport  Landing,  as  Kansas  City 
was  then  called,  he  would  take  the  steamboat  for  St. 
Louis,  leaving  his  coach,  wagons,  servants,  and  other 
appointments  of  his  caravan  behind  him  in  the  village  of 
Westport,  a  few  miles  from  the  Landing. 

Westport  Avas  at  that  time,  like  all  steamboat  towns  in 
the  era  of  water  navigation,  the  harbor  of  as  great  a  lot 
of  ruffians  as  ever  escaped  the  gallows.  There  was  espe- 
cially a  noted  gang  of  land  pirates,  the  members  of  which 
had  long  indulged  in  speculations  regarding  the  probable 
wealth  of  the  Mexican  Don,  and  how  much  coin  he  gen- 
erally carried  with  him.  They  knew  that  it  must  be  con- 
siderable from  the  quantity  of  goods  that  always  came  by 
boat  with  him  from  St.  Louis. 

At  last  a  devilish  plot  was  arranged  to  get  hold  of  the 
rich  trader's  money.  Nine  men  were  concerned  in  the 
robbery,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  residents  of  the  vicinity 
of  Westport  ;  their  leader  was  one  John  McDaniel,  re- 
cently from  Texas,  from  which  government  he  claimed 
to  hold  a  captain's  commission,  and  one  of  their  number 
was  a  doctor.  It  was  evidently  the  intention  of  this  band 
to  join  Warfield's  party  on  the  Arkansas,  and  engage  in 
a  general  robbery  of  the  freight  caravans  of  the  Santa  Fe 
Trail  belonging  to  the  Mexicans  ;  but  they  had  determined 
that  Chavez  should  be  their  first  victim,  and  in  order  to 
learn  when  he  intended  to  leave  Santa  Fe"  on  his  next  trip 
east,  they  sent  their  spies  out  on  the  great  highway. 

They  did  not  dare  attempt  their  contemplated  robbery, 
and  murder  if  necessary,  in  the  State  of  Missouri,  for 
there  were  too  many  citizens  of  the  border  who  would 
never  have  permitted  such  a  thing  to  go  unpunished ;  so 


A   ROMANTIC   TRAGEDY  99 

they  knew  that  their  only  chance  was  to  effect  it  in  the 
Indian  country  of  Kansas,  where  there  was  little  or  no 
law. 

Cow  Creek,  which  debouches  into  the  Arkansas  at 
Hutchinson,  where  the  Atchison,  Tojueka  and  Santa  Fe 
Railroad  crosses  the  historic  little  stream,1  was,  like  Big 
and  Little  Coon  creeks,  a  most  dangerous  point  in  the 
transcontinental  passage  of  freight  caravans  and  overland 
coaches,  in  the  days  of  the  commerce  of  the  prairies.  It 
was  on  this  purling  little  prairie  brook  that  McDaniel's 
band  lay  in  wait  for  the  arrival  of  the  ill-fated  Don  Anto- 
nio, whose  imposing  equipage  came  along,  intending  to 
encamp  on  the  bank,  one  of  the  usual  stopping-places  on 
the  route. 

The  Don  was  taken  a  few  miles  south  of  the  Trail,  and 
his  baggage  rifled.  All  of  his  party  were  immediately 
murdered,  but  the  wealthy  owner  of  the  caravan  was 
spared  for  a  few  moments  in  order  to  make  a  confession 
of  where  his  money  was  concealed,  after  which  he  was 
shot  down  in  cold  blood,  and  his  body  thrown  into  a 
ravine. 

It  appears,  however,  that  the  ruffians  had  not  completed 
their  bloody  work  so  effectually  as  they  thought ;  for  one 
of  the  Mexican's  teamsters  escaped,  and,  making  his  way 
to  Leavenworth,  reported  the  crime,  and  was  soon  on  his 
way  back  to  the  Trail,  guiding  a  detachment  of  United 
States  troops  in  pursuit  of  the  murderers. 

John  Hobbs,  scout,  trapper,  and  veteran  plainsman, 
happened  to  be  hunting  buffalo  on  Pawnee  Fork,  on  the 
ground  where  Larned  is  now  situated,  with  a  party  from 
Bent's  Fort.  They  were  just  on  the  point  of  crossing  the 
Trail  at  the  mouth  of  the  Pawnee  when  the  soldiers  from 

1  The  Old  Santa  Fe'  Trail  crosses  the  creek  some  miles  north  of  Hutch- 
inson, and  coincides  'with  the  track  again  at  the  mouth  of  Walnut  Creek, 
three  miles  east  of  Great  Bend. 


100  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Fort  Leavenworth  came  along,  and  from  them  Hobbs  and 
his  companions  first  learned  of  the  murder  of  Chavez  on 
Cow  Creek.  As  the  men  who  were  out  hunting  were  all 
familiar  with  every  foot  of  the  region  they  were  then  in, 
the  commanding  officer  of  the  troops  induced  them  to  ac- 
company him  in  his  search  for  the  murderers. 

Hobbs  and  his  men  cheerfull}r  accepted  the  invitation, 
and  in  about  four  days  met  the  band  of  cut-throats  on  the 
broad  Trail,  they  little  dreaming  that  the  government  had 
taken  a  hand  in  the  matter.  The  band  tried  to  escape  by 
flight,  but  Hobbs  shot  the  doctor's  horse  from  under  him, 
and  a  soldier  killed  another  member  of  the  band,  when 
the  remainder  surrendered. 

The  money,  about  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  dollars,1 
was  all  recovered,  and  the  murderers  taken  to  St.  Louis, 
where  some  were  hung  and  some  imprisoned,  the  doctor 
escaping  the  death  penalty  by  turning  state's  evidence. 
His  sentence  was  incarceration  in  the  penitentiary,  from 
which  he  was  pardoned  after  remaining  there  two  years. 
Hobbs  met  the  doctor  some  years  after  in  San  Francisco. 
He  was  then  leading  an  honest  life,  publishing  a  news- 
paper, and  begged  his  captor  not  to  expose  him. 

The  money  taken  from  the  robbers  was  placed  in  charge 
of  Colonel  Owens,  a  friend  of  the  Chavez  family  and  a 
leading  Santa  Fe  trader.  He  continued  on  to  the  river, 
purchased  a  stock  of  goods,  and  sent  back  the  caravan 
to  Santa  Fe  in  charge,  of  Doctor  Conley  of  Boonville, 
Missouri. 

Arriving  at  his  destination,  the  widow  of  the  deceased 
Chavez  employed  the  good  doctor  to  sell  the  goods  and 

1  There  are  many  conflicting  accounts  in  regard  to  the  sum  Don  An- 
tonio carried  with  him  on  that  unfortunate  trip.  Some  authorities  put  it 
as  high  as  sixty  thousand  ;  I  have  taken  a  mean  of  the  various  sums, 
and  as  this  method  will  suffice  in  mathematics,  perhaps  we  can  approxi- 
mate the  truth  in  this  instance. 


A   ROMANTIC   TRAGEDY 


101 


take  the  sole  supervision  of  her  immense  business  interests, 
and  there  is  a  touch  of  romance  attached  to  the  terrible 
Kansas  tragedy,  which  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  doctor  in 
about  two  years  married  the  rich  widow,  and  lived  very 
happily  for  about  a  decade,  dying  then  on  one  of  the  large 
estates  in  New  Mexico,  which  he  had  acquired  by  his 
fortunate  union  with  the  amiable  Mexican  lady. 


Pueb/o  de  Taoj 


CHAPTER   VII 


MEXICO    DECLARES     WAR    AGAINST    THE    UNITED    STATES CON- 
GRESS    AUTHORIZES     THE     PRESIDENT      TO     CALL      FOR      FIFTY 

THOUSAND    VOLUNTEERS ORGANIZATION    OF     THE    ARMY    OF 

THE  WEST PHENOMENON     SEEN    BY    SANTA    FE    TRADERS    IN 

THE     SKY FIRST     DEATH     ON     THE     MARCH     OF      THE     ARMY 

ACROSS     THE     PLAINS MEN     IN     A     STARVING     CONDITION 

ANOTHER    DEATH BURIAL    NEAR    PAWNEE    ROCK TROUBLE 

AT    PAWNEE    FORK MAJOR   HOWARD'S    REPORT 


General  I  lEXICO      declared      war 

>*  against  the  United  States' 
in  April,  1846.  In  the 
following  May,  Congress 
passed  an  act  authorizing 
the  President  to  call  into 
the  field  fifty  thousand 
volunteers,  designed  to  oper- 
ate against  Mexico  at  three 
distinct  points,  and  consist- 
ing of  the  Southern  Wing, 
or  the  Army  of  Occupation, 
J/fjf""1,  tiie  Army  of  the  Centre,  and  the 
Army  of  the  West,  the  latter  to  direct  its 
march  upon  the  city  of  Santa  Fe.  The  original  plan 
was,  however,  somewhat  changed,  and  General  Kearney, 
who  commanded  the  Army  of  the  West,  divided  his  forces 
into  three  separate  commands.  The  first  he  led  in  person 
to  the  Pacific  coast.  One  thousand  volunteers,  under 
command  of  Colonel  A.   W.   Doniphan,  were  to  make  a 

102 


•      ..."  :,.*  - 


'ff|W 


MEXICO    DECLARES    WAR  103 

descent  upon  the  State  of  Chihuahua,  while  the  remainder 
and  greater  part  of  the  forces,  under  Colonel  Sterling 
Price,  were  to  garrison  Santa  Fe  after  its  capture. 

There  is  a  pretty  fiction  told  of  the  breaking  out  of 
the  war  between  Mexico  and  the  United  States.  Early 
in  the  spring  of  1846,  before  it  was  known  or  even  con- 
jectured that  a  state  of  war  would  be  declared  to  exist 
between  this  government  and  Mexico,  a  caravan  of  twenty- 
nine  traders,  on  their  way  from  Independence  to  Santa 
Fe,  beheld,  just  after  a  storm  and  a  little  before  sunset, 
a  perfectly  distinct  image  of  the  Bird  of  Liberty,  the 
American  eagle,  on  the  disc  of  the  sun.  When  they 
saw  it  they  simultaneously  and  almost  involuntarily  ex- 
claimed that  in  less  than  twelve  months  the  Eagle  of 
Liberty  would  spread  his  broad  plumes  over  the  plains 
of  the  West,  and  that  the  flag  of  our  country  would 
wave  over  the  cities  of  New  Mexico  and  Chihuahua. 
The  student  of  the  classics  will  remember  that  just 
before  the  assassination  of  Julius  C;esar,  both  Brutus 
and  Cassius,  while  in  their  places  in  the  Roman  Senate, 
saw  chariots  of  fire  in  the  sky.  One  story  is  as  true, 
probabty,  as  the  other,  though  separated  by  centuries  of 
time. 

The  Army  of  the  West,  under  General  Stephen  W. 
Kearney,  consisted  of  two  batteries  of  artillery,  com- 
manded by  Major  Clark  ;  three  squadrons  of  the  First 
United  States  Dragoons,  commanded  by  Major  Sumner ; 
the  First  Regiment  of  Missouri  Cavalry,  commanded  by 
Colonel  Doniphan,  and  two  companies  of  infantry,  com- 
manded by  Captain  Aubrey.  This  force  marched  in  de- 
tached columns  from  Fort  Leavenworth,  and  on  the  1st 
of  August,  1846,  concentrated  in  camp  on  the  Santa  Fe 
Trail,  nine  miles  below  Bent's  Fort. 

Accompanying  the  expedition  was  a  party  of  the  United 
States  topographical  engineers,  under  command  of  Lieu- 


104  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

tenant  W.  H.  Emory.1  In  writing  of  this  expedition,  so  far 
as  its  march  relates  to  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  I  shall  quote 
freely  from  Emory's  report  and  Doniphan's  historian.2 

The  practicability  of  marching  a  large  army  over  the 
waste,  uncultivated,  uninhabited  prairie  regions  of  the 
West  was  universally  regarded  as  problematical,  but  the 
expedition  proved  completely  successful.  Provisions  were 
conveyed  in  wagons,  and  beef-cattle  driven  along  for  the 
use  of  the  men.  These  animals  subsisted  entirely  by 
grazing.  To  secure  them  from  straying  off  at  night, 
they  were  driven  into  corrals  formed  of  the  wagons, 
or  tethered  to  an  iron  picket-pin  driven  into  the  ground 
about  fifteen  inches.  At  the  outset  of  the  expedition 
many  laughable  scenes  took  place.  Our  horses  were  gen- 
erally wild, , fiery,  and  unused  to  military  trappings  and 
equipments.  Amidst  the  fluttering  of  banners,  the  sound- 
ing of  bugles,  the  rattling  of  artillery,  the  clattering 
of  sabres  and  also  of  cooking  utensils,  some  of  them 
took  fright  and  scampered  pell-mell  over  the  wide  prairie. 
Rider,  arms  and  accoutrements,  saddles,  saddle-bags,  tin 
cups,  and  coffee-pots,  were  frequently  left  far  behind 
in  the  chase.  No  very  serious  or  fatal  accident,  however, 
occurred  from  this  cause,  and  all  was  right  as  soon  as  the 
affrighted  animals  were  recovered. 

The  Army  of  the  West  was,  perhaps,  composed  of  as 
fine  material  as  an)''  other  body  of  troops  then  in  the  field. 
The  volunteer  corps  consisted  almost  entirely  of  young 
men  of  the  country. 

1  General  Emory  of  the  Union  army  during  the  Civil  War.  He  made 
an  official  report  of  the  country  through  which  the  Army  of  the  West 
passed,  accompanied  by  maps,  and  his  Beconnoissance  in  New  Mexico 
and  California,  published  by  the  government  in  1848,  is  the  first  au- 
thentic record  of  the  region,  considered  topographically  and  geologically. 

-  Doniphan's  Expedition,  containing  an  account  of  the  Conquest  of 
New  Mexico,  etc.  John  T.  Hughes,  A.B.,  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Mis- 
souri Cavalry.     1850. 


MEXICO   DECLARES   WAR  105 

On  the  9th  of  July,  a  separate  detachment  of  the  troops 
arrived  at  the  Little  Arkansas,  where  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
crosses  that  stream,  —  now  in  McPherson  County,  Kansas. 
The  mosquitoes,  gnats,  and  black  flies  swarmed  in  that 
locality  and  nearly  drove  the  men  and  animals  frantic. 
While  resting  there,  a  courier  came  from  the  commands 
of  General  Kearney  and  Colonel  Doniphan,  stating  that 
their  men  were  in  a  starving  condition,  and  asking  for 
such  provisions  as  could  be  spared.  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Ruff  of  Doniphan's  regiment,  in  command  of  the  troops 
now  camped  on  the  Little  Arkansas,  was  almost  destitute 
himself.  He  had  sent  couriers  forward  to  Pawnee  Fork 
to  stop  a  train  of  provisions  at  that  point  and  have  it 
wait  there  until  he  came  up  with  his  force,  and  he  now 
directed  the  courier  from  Kearney  to  proceed  to  the  same 
place  and  halt  as  many  wagons  loaded  with  supplies,  as 
would  suffice  to  furnish  the  three  detachments  with  ra- 
tions. One  of  the  couriers,  in  attempting  to  ford  the 
fork  of  the  Pawnee,  which  was  bank-full,  was  drowned. 
His  body  was  found  and  given  a  military  funeral ;  he  was 
the  first  man  lost  on  the  expedition  after  it  had  reached 
the  great  plains,  one  having  been  drowned  in  the  Mis- 
souri, at  Fort  Leavenworth,  before  the  troops  left. 

The  author  of  Doniphan's  Expedition  says :  "  In  approach- 
ing the  Arkansas,  a  landscape  of  the  most  imposing  and 
picturesque  nature  makes  its  appearance.  While  the  green, 
glossy  undulations  of  the  prairie  to  the  right  seem  to 
spread  out  in  infinite  succession,  like  waves  subsiding  after 
a  storm,  and  covered  with  herds  of  gambolling  buffalo,  on 
the  left,  towering  to  the  height  of  seventy-five  to  a  hun- 
dred feet,  rise  the  sun-gilt  summits  of  the  sand  hills, 
along  the  base  of  which  winds  the  broad,  majestic  river, 
bespeckled  with  verdant  islets,  thickly  beset  with  cotton- 
wood  timber,  the  sand  hills  resembling  heaps  of  driven 
snow."     I  refer  to  this -statement  to  show  how  wonder- 


106  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

fully  the  settlement  of  the  region  has  changed  the  physical 
aspect  of  that  portion  bordering  the  Arkansas  River.  Now 
those  sand  hills  are  covered  with  verdure,  and  this  meta- 
morphosis has  taken  place  within  the  last  thirty  years;  for 
the  author  of  this  work  well  remembers  how  the  great  sand 
dunes  used  to  shine  in  the  sunlight,  when  he  first  saw  them  a 
third  of  a  century  ago.  In  coming  from  Fort  Leavenworth 
up  the  Smoky  Hill  route  to  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  where  the 
former  joined  the  latter  at  Pawnee  Rock,  the  contour  of 
the  Arkansas  could  be  easily  traced  by  the  white  sand 
hills  referred  to,  long  before  it  was  readied. 

On  the  15th  of  July  the  combined  forces  formed  a 
junction  at  Pawnee  Fork,  now  within  the  city  limits  of 
Larned,  Kansas.  The  river  was  impassable,  but  General 
Kearney,  with  the  characteristic  energy  of  his  family,  de- 
termined not  to  be  dela}red,  and  to  that  end  caused  great 
trees  to  be  cut  down  and  their  trunks  thrown  across  the 
stream,  over  which  the  army  passed,  carrying  in  their 
arms  the  sick,  the  baggage,  tents,  and  other  parapherna- 
lia ;  the  animals  being  forced  to  swim.  The  empty 
bodies  of  the  wagons,  fastened  to  their  running  gear, 
were  floated  across  by  means  of  ropes,  and  hauled  up 
the  slippery  bank  by  the  troops.  This  required  two 
whole  daj'S  ;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  17th,  not  an 
accident  having  occurred,  the  entire  column  was  en  route 
again,  the  infantry,  as  is  declared  in  the  official  reports, 
keeping  pace  with  the  cavalry  right  along.  Their  feet, 
however,  became  terribly  blistered,  and,  like  the  Conti- 
nentals at  Valley  Forge,  their  tracks  were  marked  with 
blood. 

In  a  day  or  two  after  the  command  had  left  Pawnee 
Fork,  while  camping  in  a  beautiful  spot  on  the  bank  of 
the  Arkansas,  an  officer,  Major  Howard,  who  had  been 
sent  forward  to  Santa  Fe  some  time  previously  by  the 
general  to  learn  something  of  the  feeling  of  the  people  in 


MEXICO   DECLARES   WAR  107 

relation  to  submitting  to  the  government  of  the  United 
States,  returned  and  reported  "  that  the  common  people, 
or  plebeians,  were  inclined  to  favour  the  conditions  of  peace 
proposed  by  General  Kearney  ;  viz.  that  if  they  woidd 
lay  down  their  arms  and  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  they  should,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes,  become  citizens  of  the  same  republic, 
receiving  the  protection  and  enjoying  the  liberties  guar- 
anteed to  other  American  citizens  ;  but  that  the  patricians 
who  held  the  offices  and  ruled  the  country  were  hostile, 
and  were  making  warlike  preparations.  He  added,  further, 
that  two  thousand  three  hundred  men  were  already  armed 
for  the  defence  of  the  capital,  and  that  others  were 
assembling  at  Taos."  This  intelligence  created  quite  a 
sensation  in  camp,  and  it  was  believed,  and  earnestly 
hoped,  that  the  entrance  of  the  troops  into  Santa  Fe  would 
be  desperately  opposed ;  such  is  the  pugnacious  character 
of  the  average  American  the  moment  he  dons  the  uniform 
of  a  soldier.  ,. 

The  army  arrived  at  the  Cimarron  crossing  of  the 
Arkansas  on  the  20th,  and  during  the  march  of  nearly 
thirty  miles  from  their  last  camp,  a  herd  of  about  four 
hundred  buffalo  suddenly  emerged  from  the  Arkansas, 
and  broke  through  the  long  column.  In  an  instant  the 
troops  charged  upon  the  surprised  animals  with  guns,  pis- 
tols, and  even  drawn  sabres,  and  many  of  the  huge  beasts 
were  slaughtered  as  they  went  dashing  and  thundering 
among  the  excited  troopers  and  infantrymen. 

On  the  29th  an  express  from  Bent's  Fort  brought  news 
to  General  Kearney  from  Santa  Fe  that  Governor  Armijo 
had  called  the  chief  men  together  to  deliberate  on  the  best 
means  of  defending  the  city ;  that  hostile  preparations 
were  rapidly  going  on  in  all  parts  of  New  Mexico  ;  and 
that  the  American  advance  would  be  vigorously  opposed. 
Some   Mexican  prisoners  were  taken  near  Bent's  Fort, 


108  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

with  blank  letters  on  their  persons  addressed  to  the  gen- 
eral ;  it  was  supposed  this  piece  of  ingenuity  was  resorted 
to  to  deceive  the  American  residents  at  the  fort.  These 
men  were  thought  to  be  spies  sent  out  from  Santa  Fe  to 
get  an  idea  of  the  strength  of  the  army ;  so  they  were 
shown  everything  in  and  around  camp,  and  then  allowed 
to  depart  in  peace  for  Santa  Fe,  to  report  what  they  had 
seen. 

On  the  same  date,  the  Army  of  the  West  crossed  the 
Arkansas  and  camped  on  Mexican  soil  about  eight  miles 
below  Bent's  Fort,  and  now  the  utmost  vigilance  was 
exercised  ;  for  the  troops  had  not  only  to  keep  a  sharp 
lookout  for  the  Mexicans,  but  for  the  wily  Comanches, 
in  whose  country  their  camp  was  located.  Strong  picket 
and  camp  guards  were  posted,  and  the  animals  turned 
loose  to  graze,  guarded  by  a  large  force.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  care  taken  to  confine  them  within  certain  limits, 
a  pack  of  wolves  rushed  through  the  herd,  and  in  an  in- 
stant it  was  stampeded,  and  there  ensued  a  scene  of  the 
wildest  confusion.  More  than  a  thousand  horses  were 
dashing  madly  over  the  prairie,  their  rage  and  fright 
increased  at  every  jump  by  the  lariats  and  picket-pins 
which  they  had  pulled  up,  and  which  lashed  them  like  so 
many  whips.  After  desperate  exertions  by  the  troops,  the" 
majority  were  recovered  from  thirty  to  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant ;  nearly  a  hundred,  however,  were  absolutely  lost 
and  never  seen  again. 

At  this  camp  the  troops  were  visited  by  the  war  chief 
of  the  Arapahoes,  who  manifested  great  surprise  at  the 
big  guns,  and  declared  that  the  Mexicans  would  not  stand 
a  moment  before  such  terrible  instruments  of  death,  but 
would  escape  to  the  mountains  with  the  utmost  despatch. 

On  the  1st  of  August  a  new  camp  near  Bent's  Fort  was 
established,  from  whence  twenty  men  under  Lieutenant 
de  Courcy,  with  orders  to  proceed  through  the  moun- 


<    y 


■ 


■ 

u 

1 

I.     'Ofl 

,    ;  ij    ■  : 


TROOPS   GOING   TO.    MEXICO,.  1847 


MEXICO   DECLARES   WAR  109 

tains  to  the  valley  of  Taos,  to  learn  something  of  the 
disposition  and  intentions  of  the  people,  and  to  rejoin 
General  Kearney  on  the  road  to  Santa  Fe.  Lieutenant  de 
Courcy,  in  his  official  itinerary,  relates  the  following  anec- 
dote :  "  We  took  three  pack-mules  laden  with  provisions, 
and  as  we  did  not  expect  to  be  long  absent,  the  men  took 
no  extra  clothing.  Three  days  after  we  left  the  column 
our  mules  fell  down,  and  neither  gentle  means  nor  the 
points  of  our  sabres  had  the  least  effect  in  inducing  them 
to  rise.  Their  term  of  service  with  Uncle  Sam  was  out. 
'"What's  to  be  done?'  said  the  sergeant.  'Dismount!' 
said  I.  '  Off  with  your  shirts  and  drawers,  men !  tie  up 
the  sleeves  and  legs,  and  each  man  bag  one-twentieth  part 
of  the  flour !  '  Having  done  this,  the  bacon  was  distrib- 
uted to  the  men  also,  and  tied  to  the  cruppers  of  their 
saddles.  Thus  loaded,  we  pushed  on,  without  the  slight- 
est fear   of  our  provision  train  being  cut  off. 

"  The  march  upon  Santa  Fe  was  resumed  on  the  2d  of 
August.  As  we  passed  Bent's  Fort  the  American  flag 
was  raised,  in  conrpliment  to  our  troops,  and,  like  our 
own,  streamed  most  animatingly  in  the  gale  that  swept 
from  the  desert,  while  the  tops  of  the  houses  were  crowded 
with  Mexican  girls  and  Indian  squaws,  intently  behold- 
ing the  American  army." 

On  the  15th  of  the  month,  the  army  neared  Las  Vegas ; 
when  two  spies  who  had  been  sent  on  in  advance  to  see 
how  matters  stood  returned  and  reported  that  two  thou- 
sand Mexicans  were  camped  at  the  pass  a  few  miles  be- 
yond the  village,  where  they  intended  to  offer  battle. 

Upon  receipt  of  this  news,  the  general  immediately 
formed  a  line  of  battle.  The  United  States  dragoons 
with  the  St.  Louis  mounted  volunteers  were  stationed 
in  front,  Major  Clark  with  the  battalion  of  volunteer 
light  artillery  in  the  centre,  and  Colonel  Doniphan's 
regiment  in  the   rear.     The   companies  of   volunteer  in- 


110  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

fantry  were  deployed  on  each  side  of  the  line  o'f  march  as 
flankers.  The  supply  trains  were  next  in  order,  with 
Captain  Walton's  mounted  company  as  rear  guard.  There 
was  also  a  strong  advance  guard.  The  cartridges  were 
hastily  distributed  ;  the  cannon  swabbed  and  rigged  ;  the 
port-fires  burning,  and  every  rifle  loaded. 

In  passing  through  the  streets  of  the  curious-looking 
village  of  Las  Vegas,  the  army  was  halted,  and  from  the 
roof  of  a  large  house  General  Kearney  administered  to 
the  chief  officers  of  the  place  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
United  States,  using  the  sacred  cross  instead  of  the  Bible. 
This  act  completed,  on  marched  the  exultant  troops 
toward  the  cafion  where  it  had  been  promised  them  that 
they  should  meet  the  enemy. 

On  the  night  of  the  16th,  while  encamped  on  the  Pecos 
River,  near  the  village  of  San  Jose,  the  pickets  captured 
a  son  of  the  Mexican  General  Salezar.  who  was  acting  the 
role  of  a  spy,  and  two  other  soldiers  of  the  Mexican  army. 
Salezar  was  kept  a  close  prisoner ;  but  the  two  privates 
were  by  order  of  General  Kearney  escorted  through  the 
camp  and  shown  the  cannon,  after  which  they  were  allowed 
to  depart,  so  that  they  might  tell  what  they  had  seen.  It 
was  learned  afterward  that  they  represented  the  American 
army  as  composed  of  five  thousand  troops,  and  possessing 
so  many  cannons  that  they  were  not  able  to  count  them. 

When  Armijo  was  certain  that  the  Army  of  the  West 
was  really  approaching  Santa  Fe,  he  assembled  seven 
thousand  troops,  part  of  them  well  armed,  and  the  re- 
mainder indifferently  so.  The  Mexican  general  had  writ- 
ten a  note  to  General  Kearney  the  day  before  the  capture 
of  the  spies,  saying  that  he  would  meet  him  on  the  follow- 
ing day. 

General  Kearney,  at  this,  hastened  on,  arriving  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Apache  cafion  at  noon,  with  his  whole  force 
ready  and  anxious   to   try  the  mettle  of  the   Mexicans 


MEXICO   DECLARES   WAR  111 

in  battle.  Emory  in  his  Meoonnoissance  says  :  "  The 
sun  shone  with  dazzling  brightness ;  the  guidons  and 
colours  of  each  squadron,  regiment,  and  battalion  were 
for  the  first  time  unfurled.  The  drooping  horses  seemed 
to  take  courage  from  the  gay  array.  The  trumpeters 
sounded  '  to  horse '  with  spirit,  and  the  hills  multiplied 
and  re-echoed  the  call.  All  wore  the  aspect  of  a  gala  day. 
About  the  middle  of  the  day's  march  the  two  Pueblo 
Indians,  previously  sent  to  sound  the  chief  men  of  that 
formidable  tribe,  were  seen  in  the  distance,  at  full  speed,, 
with  arms  and  legs  both  thumping  the  sides  of  their 
mules  at  every  stride.  Something  was  now  surely  in  the 
wind.  The  smaller  and  foremost  of  the  two  dashed  up 
to  the  general,  his  face  radiant  with  joy,  and  exclaimed  : 

" '  They  are  in  the  canon,  my  brave ;  pluck  up  your 
courage  and  push  thein  out.'  As  soon  as  his  extravagant 
delight  at  the  prospect  of  a  fight,  and  the  pleasure  of 
communicating  the  news,  had  subsided,  he  gave  a  pretty 
accurate  idea  of  Armijo's  force  and  position. 

"  Shortly  afterwards  a  rumour  reached  the  camp  that  the 
two  thousand  Mexicans  assembled  in  the  canon  to  oppose 
us,  have  quarrelled  among  themselves ;  and  that  Armijo, 
taking  advantage  of  the  dissensions,  has  fled  with  his 
dragoons  and  artillery  to  the  south.  It  is  well  known 
that  he  has  been  averse  to  a  battle,  but  some  of  his  people 
threatened  his  life  if  he  refused  to  fight.  He  had  been, 
for  some  days,  more  in  fear  of  his  own  people  than  of  the 
American  army,  having  seen  what  they  are  blind  to,  — 
the  hopelessness  of  resistance. 

"  As  we  approached  the  ancient  town  of  Pecos,  a  large 
fat  fellow,  mounted  on  a  mule,  came  toward  us  at  full 
speed,  and,  extending  his  hand  to  the  general,  congratu- 
lated him  on  the  arrival  of  himself  and  army.  He  said 
with  a  roar  of  laughter,  'Armijo  and  his  troops  have 
gone  to  h — 11,  and  the  canon  is  all  clear.' " 


11- 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   THAIL 


On  reaching  the  canon,  it  was  found  to  be  true  that  the 
Mexican  troops  had  dispersed  and  fled  to  the  mountains, 
just  as  the  old  Arapahoe  chief  had  said  they  would. 
There,  however,  thejr  commenced  to  fortify,  by  chopping 
away  the  timber  so  that  their  artillery  could  play  to  better 
advantage  upon  the  American  lines,  and  by  throwing  up 
temporary  breastworks.  It  was  ascertained  afterward, 
on  undoubted  authority,  that  Armijo  had  an  army  of 
nearly  seven  thousand  Mexicans,  with  six  pieces  of  artil- 
lery, and  the  advantage  of  ground,  yet  he  allowed  Gen- 
eral Kearney,  with  a  force  of  less  than  two  thousand,  to 
march  through  the  almost  impregnable  gorge,  and  on 
to  the  capital  of  the  Province,  without  any  attempt  to 
oppose  him. 

Thus  was  New  Mexico  conquered  with  but  little  loss 
relatively.  For  the  further  details  of  the  movements  of 
the  Army  of  the  West,  the  reader  is  referred  to  general 
history,  as  this  book,  necessarily,  treats  only  of  that  por- 
tion of  its  march  and  the  incidents  connected  with  it 
while  travelling  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 


Ruiru  of  Church  df  Pccoj     -~f:==s= 


CHAPTER   VIII 


THE    VALLEY     OF     TAOS FIRST     WHITE     SETTLER REBELLION 

OF     THE     MEXICANS A    WOMAN     DISCOVERS     AND     INFORMS 

COLONEL     PRICE     OF     THE     CONSPIRACY ASSASSINATION     OF 

GOVERNOR    BENT HORRIBLE    BUTCHERIES    BY    THE    PUEBLOS 

AND    MEXICANS TURLEY's    RANCH MURDER  OF    HARWOOD 

AND     MARKHEAD ANECDOTE     OF     SIR    WILLIAM    DRUMMOND 

STEWART FIGHT  AT    THE   MILLS BATTLE    OF    THE    PUEBLO 

OF     TAOS TRIAL      OF      THE      INSURRECTIONISTS BAPTISTE, 

THE    JUROR EXECUTION    OF    THE    REBELS 


•/fe  of dn 
/ndidn  Chief- ■■ 


HE    principal    settlement 
in    Xew  Mexico,   imme- 
diately after  it  was  recon- 
quered from  the  Indians 
by  the  Spaniards,  was,  of 
course,    Santa    Fe,    and 
ranking  second  to  it,  that 
of  the  beautiful  Valle  de 
Taos,   which  derived    its 
name  from  the  Taosa  In- 
f    dians,  a  few  of  whose  di- 
rect descendants  are  still 
occupying  a  portion  of  the 
region.      As  the  pioneers  in 
the    trade    with    Santa    I^e 
made  their  first  journeys  to 
the  capital  of  the  Province 
by  the  circuitous  route  of  the  Taos  valley,  and  the  initial 
consignments  of  goods  from  the  Missouri  were  disposed 
i  113 


■5Sf 


114  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

of  in  the  little  villages  scattered  along  the  road,  the  story 
of  the  Trail  would  be  deficient  in  its  integrity  were  the 
thrilling  historical  facts  connected  with  the  romantic  re- 
gion omitted. 

The'  reader  will  find  on  all  maps,  from  the  earliest  pub- 
lished to  the  latest  issued  by  the  local  railroads,  a  town 
with  the  name  of  Taos,  which  never  had  an  existence. 
Fernandez  cle  Taos  is  the  chief  city,  which  has  been  known 
so  long  by  the  title  of  the  valley  that  perhaps  the  mis- 
nomer is  excusable  after  many  years'  use. 

Fernandez,  or  Taos  as  it  is  called,  was  once  famous  for 
its  distilleries  of  whiskey,  made  out  of  the  native  wheat, 
a  raw,  fiery  spirit,  always  known  in  the  days  of  the  Santa 
Fe  trade  as  "  Taos  lightning,"  which  was  the  most  profita- 
ble article  of  barter  with  the  Indians,  who  exchanged  their 
buffalo  robes  and  other  valuable  furs  for  a  supply  of  it,  at 
a  tremendous  sacrifice. 

According  to  the  statement  of  Gregg,  the  first  white 
settler  of  the  fertile  and  picturesque  valley  was  a  Spaniard 
named  Pando,  who  established  himself  there  about  1745. 
This  primitive  pioneer  of  the  northern  part  of  the  Prov- 
ince was  constantly  exposed  to  the  raids  of  the  powerful 
Comanches,  but  succeeded  in  creating  a  temporary  friend- 
ship with  the  tribe  by  promising  his  daughter,  then  a 
young  and  beautiful  infant,  to  the  chief  in  marriage  when 
she  arrived  at  a  suitable  age.  At  the  time  for  the  ratifi- 
cation of  her  father's  covenant  with  the  Indians,  however, 
the  maiden  stubbornly  refused  to  fulfil  her  part.  The 
savages,  enraged  at  the  broken  faith  of  the  Spaniard, 
immediately  swept  down  upon  the  little  settlement  and 
murdered  everybody  there  except  the  betrothed  girl, 
whom  they  carried  off  into  captivity.  She  was  forced  to 
live  with  the  chief  as  his  wife,  but  he  soon  became  tired  of 
her  and  traded  her  for  another  woman  with  the  Pawnees, 
who,  in  turn,  sold  her  to  a  Frenchman,  a  resident  of  St. 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  115 

Louis.  It  is  said  that  some  of  the  most  respectable  fam- 
ilies of  that  city  are  descended  from  her,  and  fifty  years 
ago  there  were  many  people  living  who  remembered  the 
old  lady,  and  her  pathetic  story  of  trials  and  sufferings 
when  with  the  Indians. 

The  most  tragic  event  in  the  history  of  the  valley  was 
the  massacre  of  the  provisional  governor  of  the  Territory 
of  New  Mexico,  with  a  number  of  other  Americans,  shortly 
after  its  occupation  by  the  United  States. 

Upon  General  Kearney's  taking  possession  of  Santa  Fe, 
acting  under  the  authority  of  the  President,  he  established 
a  civil  government  and  put  it  into  operation.  Charles 
Bent  was  appointed  governor,  and  the  other  offices  filled 
by  Americans  and  Mexicans  who  were  rigidly  loyal  to  the 
political  change.  At  this  time  the  command  of  the  troops 
devolved  upon  Colonel  Sterling  Price,  Colonel  Doniphan, 
who  ranked  him,  having  departed  from  Santa  Fe  on  an 
expedition  against  the  Navajoes.  Notwithstanding  the 
apparent  submission  of  the  natives  of  New  Mexico,  there 
were  many  malcontents  among  them  and  the  Pueblo  In- 
dians, and  early  in  December,  some  of  the  leaders,  dissatis- 
fied with  the  change  in  the  order  of  things,  held  secret 
meetings  and  formulated  plots  to  overthrow  the  existing 
government. 

Midnight  of  the  24th  of  December  was  the  time  ap- 
pointed for  the  commencement  of  their  revolutionary 
work,  which  was  to  be  simultaneous  all  over  the  country. 
The  profoundest  secrecy  was  to  be  preserved,  and  the 
most  influential  men,  whose  ambition  induced  them  to 
seek  preferment,  were  alone  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  plot.  No  woman  was  to  be  privy  to  it,  lest  it  should 
be  divulged.  The  sound  of  the  church  bell  was  to  be  the 
signal,  and  at  midnight  all  were  to  enter  the  Plaza  at  the 
same  moment,  seize  the  pieces  of  artillery,  and  point  them 
into  the  streets. 


116  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

The  time  chosen  for  the  assault  was  Christmas- eve, 
when  the  soldiers  and  garrison  would  be  indulging  in 
wine  and  feasting,  and  scattered  about  through  the  city 
at  the  fandangoes,  not  having  their  arms  in  their  hands. 
All  the  Americans,  without  distinction,  throughout  the 
State,  and  such  New  Mexicans  as  had  favoured  the  Amer- 
ican government  and  accepted  office  by  appointment  of 
General  Kearney,  were  to  be  massacred  or  driven  from 
the  country,  and  the  conspirators  were  to  seize  upon  and 
occupy  the  government. 

The  conspiracy  was  detected  in  the  following  man- 
ner:  a  mulatto  girl,  residing  in  Santa  Fe,  had  married 
one  of  the  conspirators,  and  had  by  degrees  obtained  a 
knowledge  of  their  movements  and  secret  meeting's.  To 
prevent  the  effusion  of  blood,  which  would  inevitably  be 
the  result  of  a  revolution,  she  communicated  to  Colonel 
Price  all  the  facts  of  which  she  was  in  possession,  and 
warned  him  to  use  the  utmost  vigilance.  The  rebellion 
was  immediately  suppressed,  but  the  restless  and  unsatis- 
fied ambition  of  the  leaders  of  the  conspiracy  did  not  long 
permit  them  to  remain  inactive.  A  second  and  still  more 
dangerous  conspiracy  was  formed.  The  most  powerful 
and  influential  men  in  the  State  favoured  the  design,  and 
even  the  officers  of  State  and  the  priests  gave  their  aid 
and  counsel.  The  people  everywhere,  in  the  towns,  vil- 
lages, and  settlements,  were  exhorted  to  arm  and  equip 
themselves;  to  strike  for  their  faith,  their  religion,  and 
their  altars  ;  and  drive  the  '  heretics,'  the  '  unjust  invaders 
of  the  country,'  from  their  soil,  and  with  fire  and  sword 
pursue  them  to  annihilation.  On  the  18th  of  January  this 
rebellion  broke  out  in  every  part  of  the  State  simul- 
taneously. 

On  the  14th  of  January,  Governor  Bent,  believing  the 
conspiracy  completely  crushed,  with  an  escort  of  five  per- 
sons, —  among  whom  were  the  sheriff  and  circuit  attor- 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  117 

ney,  —  had  left  Santa  Fe  to  visit  his  family,  who  resided 
at  Fernandez. 

On  the  19th,  he  was  early  roused  from  sleep  by  the 
populace,  who,  with  the  aid  of  the  Pueblos  of  Taos,  were 
collected  in  front  of  his  dwelling  striving  to  gain  admit- 
tance. While  they  were  effecting  an  entrance,  he,  with 
an  axe,  cut  through  an  adobe  wall  into  another  house ; 
and  the  Mexican  wife  of  the  occupant,  a  clever  though 
shiftless  Canadian,  hearing  him,  with  all  her  strength 
rendered  him  assistance.  He  retreated  to  a  room,  but, 
seeing  no  way  of  escaping  from  the  infuriated  assailants, 
who  tired  upon  him  from  a  window,  he  spoke  to  his  weep- 
ing wife  and  trembling  children,  and,  taking  paper  from 
his  pocket,  endeavoured  to  write  ;  but  fast  losing  strength, 
he  commended  them  to  God  and  his  brothers  and  fell, 
pierced  by  a  ball  from  a  Pueblo.  Then  rushing  in  and 
tearing  off  his  gray-haired  scalp,  the  Indians  bore  it  away 
in  triumph. 

The  circuit  attorney,  T.  W.  Leal,  was  scalped  alive 
and  dragged  through  the  streets,  his  relentless  perse- 
cutors pricking  him  with  lances.  After  hours  of  suffer- 
ing, they  threw  him  aside  in  the  inclement  weather,  he 
imploring  them  earnestly  to  kill  him  to  end  his  misery. 
A  compassionate  Mexican  at  last  closed  the  tragic  scene 
by  shooting  him.  Stephen  Lee,  brother  to  the  general, 
was  killed  on  his  own  housetop.  Narcisse  Beaubien,  son 
of  the  presiding  judge  of  the  district,  hid  in  an  outhouse 
with  his  Indian  slave,  at  the  commencement  of  the  mas- 
sacre, under  a  straw-covered  trough.  The  insurgents  on 
the  search,  thinking  that  they  had  escaped,  were  leaving, 
but  a  woman  servant  of  the  family,  going  to  the  housetop, 
called  to  them,  "Kill  the  young  ones,  and  they  will  never 
be  men  to  trouble  us."  They  swarmed  back  and,  by 
cruelly  putting  to  death  and  scalping  him  and  his  slave, 
added  two  more  to  the  list  of  unfortunate  victims. 


118  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

The  Pueblos  and  Mexicans,  after  their  cruelties  at  Fer- 
nandez de  Taos,  attacked  and  destroyed  Turley's  Ranch 
on  the  Arroyo  Hondo  1  twelve  miles  from  Fernandez,  or 
Taos.  Arroyo  Hondo  runs  along  the  base  of  a  ridge  of  a 
mountain  of  moderate  elevation,  which  divides  the  valley 
of  Taos  from  that  of  the  Rio  Colorado,  or  Red  River, 
both  flowing  into  the  Del  Norte.  The  trail  from  one 
place  to  the  other  passes  over  the  mountain,  which  is  cov- 
ered with  pine,  cedar,  and  a  species  of  dwarf  oak  ;  and 
numerous  little  streams  run  through  the  many  caiions. 

On  the  bank  of  one  of  the  creeks  was  a  mill  and  dis- 
tillery belonging  to  an  American  named  Turley,  who  did 
a  thriving  business.  He  possessed  herds  of  goats,  and 
hogs  innumerable ;  his  barns  were  filled  with  grain,  his 
mill  with  flour,  and  his  cellars  with  whiskey.  He  had  a 
Mexican  wife  and  several  children,  and  he  bore  the  repu- 
tation of  being  one  of  the  most  generous  and  kind-hearted 
of  men.  In  times  of  scarcity,  no  one  ever  sought  his  aid 
to  be  turned  away  empty-handed  ;  his  granaries  were 
always  open  to  the  hungry,  and  his  purse  to  the  poor. 

When  on  their  road  to  Turley's,  the  Pueblos  murdered 
two  men,  named  Harwood  and  Markhead.  Markhead 
was  one  of  the  most  successful  trappers  and  daring  men 
among  the  old  mountaineers.  They  were  on  their  way  to 
Taos  with  their  pack-animals  laden  with  furs,  when  the 
savages,  meeting  them,  after  stripping  them  of  their  goods, 
and  securing  their  arms  by  treachery,  made  them  mount 
their  mules  under  pretence  of  conducting  them  to  Taos, 
where  they  were  to  be  given  up  to  the  leaders  of  the 
insurrection.  They  had  hardly  proceeded  a  mile  when  a 
Mexican  rode  up  behind  Harwood  and  discharged  his  gun 
into  his  back  ;  he  called  out  to  Markhead  that  he  was 
murdered,  and  fell  to  the  ground  dead. 

Markhead,  seeing  that  his  own  fate  was  sealed,  made 
1  Deep  Gorge. 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  119 

no  struggle,  and  was  likewise  shot  in  the  back  with 
several  bullets.  Both  men  were  then  stripped  naked, 
scalped,  and  horribly  mutilated  ;  their  bodies  thrown  into 
the  brush  to  be  devoured  by  the  wolves. 

These  trappers  were  remarkable  men  ;  Markhead,  par- 
ticularly, was  celebrated  in  the  mountains  for  his  courage, 
reckless  daring,  and  many  almost  miraculous  escapes  when 
.  in  the  very  hands  of  the  Indians.  When  some  years 
previously  he  had  accompanied  Sir  William  Drummond 
Stewart  on  one  of  his  expeditions  across  the  Rockies,  it 
happened  that  a  half-breed  Indian  employed  by  Sir  Wil- 
liam absconded  one  night  with  some  animals,  which  cir- 
cumstance annoyed  the  nobleman  so  much,  as  it  disturbed 
all  his  plans,  that  he  hastily  offered,  never  dreaming  that 
he  would  be  taken  up,  to  give  five  hundred  dollars  for  the 
scalp  of  the  thief.  The  very  next  evening  Markhead  rode 
into  camp  with  the  hair  of  the  luckless  horse-thief 
dangling  at  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle. 

The  wild  crowd  of  rebels  rode  on  to  ■  Turley's  mill. 
Turley  had  been  warned  of  the  impending  uprising,  but 
had  treated  the  report  with  indifference,  until  one  morn- 
ing a  man  in  his  employ,  who  had  been  despatched  to 
Santa  Fe  with  several  mule-loads  of  whiskey  a  few  days 
before,  made  his  appearance  at  the  gate  on  horseback,  and 
hastily  informing  the  inmates  of  the  mill  that  the  New 
Mexicans  had  risen  and  massacred  Governor  Bent  and 
other  Americans,  galloped  off.  Even  then  Turley  felt 
assured  that  he  would  not  be  molested  ;  but  at  the  solici- 
tation of  his  men,  he  agreed  to  close  the  gate  of  the  yard 
around  which  were  the  buildings  of  the  mill  and  dis- 
tillery, and  make  preparations  for  defence. 

A  few  hours  afterward  a  large  crowd  of  Mexicans  and 
Pueblo  Indians  made  their  appearance,  all  armed  with 
guns  and  bows  and  arrows,  and,  advancing  with  a  white 
flag,  summoned   Turley  to   surrender  his  house  and   the 


/ 


120  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Americans  in  it,  guaranteeing  that  his  own  life  should 
he  saved,  hut  that  every  other  American  in  the  valley 
must  be  destroyed  ;  that  the  governor  and  all  the  Ameri- 
cans at  Fernandez  had  been  killed,  and  that  not  one  was 
to  be  left  alive  in  all  New  Mexico. 

To  this  summons  Turley  answered  that  he  would  never 
surrender  his  house  nor  his  men,  and  that  if  they  wanted 
it  or  them,  they  must  take  them. 

The  enemy  then  drew  off,  and,  after  a  short  consulta- 
tion, commenced  the  attack.  The  first  day  they  numbered 
about  five  hundred,  but  were  hourly  reinforced  by  the  ar- 
rival of  jtarties  of  Indians  from  the  more  distant  Pueblos, 
and  New  Mexicans  from  Fernandez,  La  Canada,  and 
other  places. 

The  building  lay  at  the  foot  of  a  gradual  slope  in  the 
sierra,  which  was  covered  with  cedar  bushes.  In  front 
ran  the  stream  of  the  Arroyo  Hondo,  about  twenty  yards 
from  one  side  of  the  square,  and  the  other  side  was  broken 
ground  which  rose  abruptly  and  formed  the  bank  of  the 
ravine.  In  the  rear  and  behind  the  still-house  was  some 
garden  ground  enclosed  by  a  small  fence,  into  which  a 
small  wicket-gate  opened  from  the  corral. 

As  soon  as  the  attack  was  determined  upon,  the  assail- 
ants scattered  and  concealed  themselves  under  cover  of 
the  rocks  and  bushes  which  surrounded  the  house.  From 
these  they  kept  up  an  incessant  fire  upon  every  exposed 
portion  of  the  building  where  they  saw  preparations  for 
defence. 

The  Americans,  on  their  part,  were  not  idle  ;  not  a  man 
but  was  an  old  mountaineer,  and  each  had  his  trusty  rifle, 
with  a  good  store  of  ammunition.  AVhenever  one  of  the 
besiegers  exposed  a  hand's-breadth  of  his  person,  a  ball 
from  an  unerring  barrel  whistled.  The.  windows  had 
been  blockaded,  loopholes  having  been  left,  and  through 
these  a  lively  fire  was  maintained.    Already  several  of  the 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  121 

enemy  had  bitten  the  dust,  and  parties  were  seen  bearing 
off  the  wounded  up  the  banks  of  the  Canada.  Darkness 
came  on,  and  during  the  night  a  continual  fire  was  kept 
up  on  the  mill,  whilst  its  defenders,  reserving  their  ammu- 
nition, kept  their  posts  with  stern  and  silent  determi- 
nation. The  night  was  spent  in  casting  balls,  cutting 
patches,  and  completing  the  defences  of  the  building.  In 
the  morning  the  fight  was  renewed,  and  it  was  found  that 
the  Mexicans  had  effected  a  lodgment  in  a  part  of  the 
stables,  which  were  separated  from  the  other  portions  of 
the  building  by  an  open  space  of  a  few  feet.  The  assail- 
ants, during  the  night,  had  sought  to  break  down  the 
wall,  and  thus  enter  the  main  building,  but  the  strength 
of  the  adobe  and  logs  of  which  it  was  composed  resisted 
effectually  all  their  attempts. 

Those  in  the  stable  seemed  anxious  to  regain  the  outside, 
for  their  position  was  unavailable  as  a  means  of  annoy- 
ance to  the  besieged,  and  several  had  darted  across  the 
narrow  space  which  divided  it  from  the  other  part  of  the 
building,  which  slightly  projected,  and  behind  which  they 
were  out  of  the  line  of  fire.  As  soon,  however,  as  the 
attention  of  the  defenders  was  called  to  this  point,  the 
first  man  who  attempted  to  cross,  who  happened  to  be 
a  Pueblo  chief,  was  dropped  on  the  instant,  and  fell  dead 
in  the  centre  of  the  intervening  space.  It  appeared  to  be 
an  object  to  recover  the  body,  for  an  Indian  immediately 
dashed  out  to  the  fallen  chief,  and  attempted  to  drag  him 
within  the  shelter  of  the  wall.  The  rifle  which  covered 
the  spot  again  poured  forth  its  deadly  contents,  and  the 
Indian,  springing  into  the  air,  fell  over  the  body  of  his 
chief.  Another  and  another  met  with  a  similar  fate,  and 
at  last  three  rushed  to  the  spot,  and,  seizing  the  body  by 
the  legs  and  head,  had  already  lifted  it  from  the  ground, 
when  three  puffs  of  smoke  blew  from  the  barricaded  win- 
dows, followed  by  the  sharp  cracks  of  as  many  rifles,  and 


122  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

the  three  daring  Indians  were  added  to  the  j)ile  of  corpses 
which  now  covered  the  body  of  the  dead  chief. 

As  yet  the  besieged  had-  met  with  no  casualties  ;  but 
after  the  fall  of  the  seven  Indians,  the  whole  body  of  the 
assailants,  with  a  shout  of  rage,  poured  in  a  rattling  volley, 
and  two  of  the  defenders  fell  mortally  wounded.  One, 
shot  through  the  loins,  suffered  great  agony,  and  was  re- 
moved to  the  still-house,  where  lie  was  laid  on  a  large 
pile  of  grain,  as  being  the  softest  bed  that  could  be  found. 

In  the  middle  of  the  day  the  attack  was  renewed  more 
fiercely  than  before.  The  little  garrison  bravely  stood  to 
the  defence  of  the  mill,  never  throwing  away  a  shot,  but 
tiring  coolly,  and  only  when  a  fair  mark  was  presented  to 
their  unerring  aim.  Their  ammunition,  however,  was  fast 
failing,  and  to  add  to  the  danger  of  their  situation,  the 
enemy  set  fire  to  the  mill,  which  blazed  fiercely,  and 
threatened  destruction  to  the  whole  building.  Twice  they 
succeeded  in  overcoming  the  flames,  and,  while  they  were 
thus  occupied,  the  Mexicans  and  Indians  charged  into  the 
corral,  which  was  full  of  hogs  and  sheep,  and  vented  their 
cowardly  rage  upon  the  animals,  spearing  and  shooting  all 
that  came  in  their  way.  No  sooner  were  the  flames  ex- 
tinguished in  one  place  than  they  broke  out  more  fiercely 
in  another  ;  and  as  a  successful  defence  was  perfectly 
hopeless,  and  the  numbers  of  the  assailants  increased  every 
moment,  a  council  of  war  was  held  by  the  survivors  of 
the  little  garrison,  when  it  was  determined,  as  soon  as 
night  approached,  that  every  one  should  attempt  to  escape 
as  best  he  could. 

Just  at  dusk  a  man  named  John  Albert  and  another 
ran  to  the  wicket-gate  which  opened  into  a  kind  of  en- 
closed space,  in  which  were  a  number  of  armed  Mexicans. 
They  both  rushed  out  at  the  same  moment,  discharging 
their  rifles  full  in  the  face  of  the  crowd.  Albert,  in  the 
confusion,  threw  himself  under  the  fence,  whence  he  saw 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  12-3 

his  companion  shot  down  immediately,  and  heard  his  cries 
for  mercy  as  the  cowards  pierced  him  with  knives  and 
lances.  He  lay  without  motion  under  the  fence,  and  as, 
soon  as  it  was  quite  dark  he  crept  over  the  logs  and  ran 
np  the  mountain,  travelled  by  day  and  night,  and,  scarcely 
stopping  or  resting,  reached  the  Greenhorn,  almost  dead 
with  hunger  and  fatigue.  Turley  himself  succeeded  in 
escaping  from  the  mill  and  in  reaching  the  mountain  un- 
seen. Here  he  met  a  Mexican  mounted  on  a  horse,  who 
had  been  a  most  intimate  friend  of  his  for  many  years. 
To  this  man  Turley  offered  his  watch  for  the  use  of  the 
horse,  which  was  ten  times  more  than  it  was  worth,  but 
was  refused.  The  inhuman  wretch,  however,  affected 
pity  and  consideration  for  the  fugitive,  and  advised  him 
to  go  to  a  certain  place,  where  he  would  bring  or  send 
him  assistance  ;  but  on  reaching  the  mill,  which  was  a 
mass  of  fire,  he  immediately  informed  the  Mexicans  of 
Turley's  place  of  concealment,  whither  a  large  party  in- 
stantly proceeded  and  shot  him  to  death. 

Two  others  escajjed  and  reached  Santa  Fe  in  safety. 
The  mill  and  Turley's  house  were  sacked  and  gutted,  and 
all  his  hard-earned  savings,  which  were  concealed  in  gold 
about  the  house,  were  discovered,  and,  of  course,  seized 
upon  by  the  victorious  Mexicans. 

The  following  account  is  taken  from  Governor  Prince's 
chapter  on  the  fight  at  Taos,  in  his  excellent  and  authen- 
tic History  of  Neiv  Mexico  :  — 

"  The  startling  news  of  the  assassination  of  the  gov- 
ernor was  swiftly  carried  to  Santa  Fe,  and  reached  Colonel 
Price  the  next  day.'  Simultaneous^,  letters  were  discov- 
ered calling  on  the  people  of  the  Rio  Abajo  to  secure 
Albuquerque  and  march  northward  to  aid  the  other  in- 
surgents ;  and  news  speedily  followed  that  a  united  Mexi- 
can and  Pueblo  force  of  large  magnitude  was  marching 
down  the  Rio  Grande  valley  toward  the  capital,  flushed 


124  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

with  the  success  of  the  revolt  at  Taos.  Very  few  troops 
were  in  Santa  Fe ;  in  fact,  the  number  remaining  in  the 
whole  territory  was  very  small,  and  these  were  scattered 
at  Albuquerque,  Las  Vegas,  and  other  distant  points. 
At  the  first-named  town  were  Major  Edmonson  and  Cap- 
tain Burgwiu  ;  the  former  in  command  of  the  town,  and 
the  latter  with  a  company  of  the  First  Dragoons. 

"  Colonel  Price  lost  no  time  in  taking  such  measures 
as  his  limited  resources  permitted.  Edmonson  was  di- 
rected to  come  immediately  to  Santa  Fe  to  take  command 
of  the  capital ;  and  Burgwin  to  follow  Price  as  fast  as 
possible  to  the  scene  of  hostilities.  The  colonel  himself 
collected  the  few  troops  at  Santa  Fe,  which  were  all  on 
foot,  but  fortunately  included  the  little  battalion  which 
under  Captain  Aubrey  had  made  such  extraordinary 
marches  on  the  journey  across  the  plains  as  to  almost 
outwalk  the  cavalry.  With  these  was  a  volunteer  com- 
pany formed  of  nearly  all  of  the  American  inhabitants  of 
the  cit}-,  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Ceran  St.  Vrain, 
who  happened  to  be  in  Santa  Fe,  together  with  Judge 
Beaubien,  at  the  time  of  the  rising  at  Taos.  With  this 
little  force,  amounting  in  all  to  three  hundred  and  ten 
men,  Colonel  Price  started  to  march  to  Taos,  or  at  all 
events  to  meet  the  army  which  was  coming  toward  the 
capital  from  the  north  and  which  grew  as  it  marched  by 
constant  accessions  from  the  surrounding  country.  The 
city  of  Santa  Fe  was  left  in  charge  of  a  garrison  under 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Willock.  While  the  force  was  small 
and  the  volunteers  without  experience  in  regular  warfare, 
yet  all  were  nerved  to  desperation  by  the  belief,  since  the 
Taos  murders,  that  the  only  alternative  was  victory  or 
annihilation. 

"  The  expedition  set  out  on  January  23d,  and  the  next 
day  the  Mexican  army,  under  command  of  General  Mon- 
toya  as   commander-in-chief,  aided  by   Generals   Tafoya 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  125 

and  Chavez,  was  found  occupying  the  heights  command- 
ing the  road  near  La  Canada  (Santa  Cruz),  with  detach- 
ments in  some  strong  adobe  houses  near  the  river  banks. 
The  advance  had  been  seen  shortly  before  at  the  rocky 
pass,  on  the  road  from  Pojuaque ;  and  near  there  and 
before  reaching  the  river,  the  San  Juan  Pueblo  Indians, 
who  had  joined  the  revolutionists  reluctantly  and  under 
a  kind  of  compulsion,  surrendered  and  were  disarmed  by 
removing  the  locks  from  their  guns.  On  arriving  at  the 
Canada,  Price  ordered  his  howitzers  to  the  front  and 
opened  fire  ;  and  after  a  sharp  cannonade,  directed  an 
assault  on  the  nearest  houses  by  Aubrey's  battalion. 
Meanwhile  an  attempt  by  a  Mexican  detachment  to  cut 
off  the  American  baggage-wagons,  which  had  not  yet  come 
up,  was  frustrated  by  the  activity  of  St.  Vrain's  volun- 
teers. A  charge  all  along  the  line  was  then  ordered  and 
handsomely  executed ;  the  houses,  which,  being  of  adobe, 
had  been  practically  so  many  ready-made  forts,  were 
successively  carried,  and  St.  Vrain  started  in  advance  to 
gain  the  Mexican  -rear.  Seeing  this  manoeuvre,  and  fear- 
ing its  effects,  the  Mexicans  retreated,  leading  thirty-six 
dead  on  the  field.  Among  those  killed  was  General 
Tafoya,  who  bravely  remained  on  the  field  after  the  re- 
mainder had  abandoned  it,  and  was  shot. 

"  Colonel  Price  pressed  on  up  the  river  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble, passing  San  Juan,  and  at  Los  Luceros,  on  the  28th, 
his  little  army  was  rejoiced  at  the  arrival  of  reinforce- 
ments, consisting  of  a  mounted  company  of  cavalry,  Cap- 
tain Burgwin's  company,  which  had  been  pushed  up  by 
forced  marches  on  foot  from  Albuquerque,  and  a  six- 
pounder  brought  by  Lieutenant  Wilson.  Thus  enlarged, 
the  American  force  consisted  of  four  hundred  and  eighty 
men,  and  continued  its  advance  up  the  valley  to  La  Joya, 
which  was  as  far  as  the  river  road  at  that  time  extended. 
Meanwhile  the  Mexicans  had  established  themselves  in  a 


126  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

narrow  pass  near  Embudo,  where  the  forest  was  dense, 
and  the  road  impracticable  for  wagons  or  cannon,  the 
troops  occupying  the  sides  of  the  mountains  on  both  sides 
of  the  canyon.  Burgwin  was  sent  with  three  companies 
to  dislodge  them  and  open  a  passage  —  no  easy  task. 
But  St.  Vrain's  company  took  the  west  slope,  and  another 
the  right,  while  Burgwin  himself  marched  through  the 
gorge  between.  The  sharp-shooting  of  these  troops  did 
such  terrible  execution  that  the  pass  was  soon  cleared, 
though  not  without  the  display  of  great  heroism,  and  some 
loss  ;  and  the  Americans  entered  Embudo  without  further 
opposition.  The  difficulties  of  this  campaign  were  greatly 
increased  by  the  severity  of  the  weather,  the  mountains 
being  thickly  covered  with  snow,  and  the  cold  so  intense 
that  a  number  of  men  were  frost-bitten  and  disabled. 
The  next  day  Burgwin  reached  Las  Trampas,  where  Price 
arrived  with  the  remainder  of  the  American  army  on  the 
last  day  of  January,  and  all  together  they  marched  into 
Chamisal. 

"Notwithstanding  the  cold  and  snow  they  pressed  on 
over  the  mountain,  and  on  the  3d  of  February  reached 
the  town  of  Eernandez  de  Taos,  only  to  rind  that  the  Mexi- 
can and  Pueblo  force  had  fortified  itself  in  the  celebrated 
Pueblo  of  Taos,  about  three  miles  distant.  That  force 
had  diminished  considerably  during  the  retreat  from  La 
Canada,  many  of  the  Mexicans  returning  to  their  homes, 
and  its  greater  part  now  consisting  of  Pueblo  Indians. 
The  American  troops  were  worn  out  with  fatigue  and 
exposure,  and  in  most  urgent  need  of  rest ;  but  their  in- 
trepid commander,  desiring  to  give  his  opponents  no 
more  time  to  strengthen  their  works,  and  full  of  zeal  and 
energy,  if  not  of  prudence,  determined  to  commence  an 
immediate  attack. 

"  The  two  great  buildings  at  this  Pueblo,  certainly  the 
most  interesting  and  extraordinary  inhabited  structures  in 


THE   VALLEY   OF   TAOS  127 

America,  are  well  known  from  descriptions  and  engrav- 
ings. They  are  live  stories  high  and  irregularly  pyrami- 
dal in  shape,  each  story  being  smaller  than  the  one  below, 
in  order  to  allow  ingress  to  the  outer  rooms  of  each  tier 
from  the  roofs.  Before  the  advent  of  artillery  these 
buildings  were  practically  impregnable,  as,  when  the  ex- 
terior ladders  were  drawn  up,  there  were  no  means  of 
ingress,  the  side  walls  being  solid  without  openings,  and 
of  immense  thickness.  Between  these  gfeat  buildings, 
each  of  which  can  accommodate  a  multitude  of  men,  runs 
the  clear  water  of  the  Taos  Creek ;  and  to  the  west  of  the 
northerly  building  stood  the  old  church,  with  walls  of 
adobe  from  three  to  seven  and  a  half  feet  in  thickness. 
Outside  of  all,  and  having  its  northwest  corner  just  be- 
yond the  church,  ran  an  adobe  wall,  built  for  protection 
against  hostile  Indians  and  which  now  answered  for  an 
outer  earthwork.  The  church  was  turned  into  a  forti- 
fication, and  was  the  point  where  the  insurgents  concen- 
trated their  strength ;  and  against  this  Colonel  Price 
directed  his  principal  attack.  The  six-pounder  and  the 
howitzer  were  brought  into  position  without  delay,  under 
the  command  of  Lieutenant  Dyer,  then  a  young  graduate 
of  West  Point,  and  since  then  chief  of  ordnance  of  the 
United  States  army,  and  opened  a  fire  on  the  thick  adobe 
walls.  But  cannon-balls  made  little  impression  on  the 
massive  banks  of  earth,  in  which  they  embedded  them- 
selves without  doing  damage  ;  and  after  a  fire  of  two 
hours,  the  battery  was  withdrawn,  and  the  troops  allowed 
to  return  to  the  town  of  Taos  for  their  much-needed  rest. 
Early  the  next  morning,  the  troops,  now  refreshed  and 
ready  for  the  combat,  advanced  again  to  the  Pueblo,  but 
found  those  within  equally  prepared.  The  story  of  the 
attack  and  capture  of  this  place  is  so  interesting,  both  on 
account  of  the  meeting  here  of  old  and  new  systems  of 
warfare  —  of  modern  artillery  with  an  aboriginal  strong- 


128  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

hold  —  and  because  the  precise  localities  can  be  distin- 
guished by  the  modern  tourist  from  the  description,  that 
it  seems  best*  to  insert  the  official  report  as  presented  by 
Colonel  Price.  Nothing  could  show  more  plainly  how  supe- 
rior strong  earthworks  are  to  many  more  ambitious  struct- 
ures of  defence,  or  more  forcibly  display  the  courage  and 
heroism  of  those  who  took  part  in  the  battle,  or  the  signal 
bravery  of  the  accomplished  Captain  Burgwin  which  led 
to  his  untimely  death.     Colonel  Price  writes  :  — 

"  '  Posting  the  dragoons  under  Captain  Burgwin  about 
two  hundred  and  sixty  yards  from  the  western  flank  of 
the  church,  I  ordered  the  mounted  men  under  Captains 
St.  Vrain  and  Slack  to  a  position  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  town,  whence  they  could  discover  and  intercept  any 
fugitives  who  might  attempt  to  escape  toward  the  moun- 
tains, or  in  the  direction  of  San  Fernando.  The  residue 
of  the  troops  took  ground  about  three  hundred  j^ards  from 
the  north  wall.  Here,  too,  Lieutenant  Dyer  established 
himself  with  the  six-pounder  and  two  howitzers,  while 
Lieutenant  Hassendaubel,  of  Major  Clark's  battalion, 
light  artillery,  remained  with  Captain  Burgwin,  in  com- 
mand of  two  howitzers.  By  this  arrangement  a  cross-fire 
was  obtained,  sweeping  the  front  and  eastern  flank  of  the 
church.  All  these  arrangements  being  made,  the  batteries 
opened  upon  the  town  at  nine  o'clock  a.m.  At  eleven 
o'clock,  finding  it  impossible  to.  breach  the  walls  of  the 
church  with  the  six-pounder  and  howitzers,  I  determined 
to  storm  the  building.  At  a  signal,  Captain  Burgwin, 
at  the  head  of  his  own  company  and  that  of  Captain 
McMillin,  charged  the  western  flank  of  the  church,  while 
Captain  Aubrey,  infantry  battalion,  and  Captain  Barber 
and  Lieutenant  Boon,  Second  Missouri  Mounted  Volun- 
teers, charged  the  northern  wall.  As  soon  as  the  troops 
above  mentioned  had  established  themselves  under  the 
western  wall  of  the  church,  axes  were  used  in  the  attempt 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  129 

to  breach  it,  and  a  temporary  ladder  having  been  made, 
the  roof  was  fired.  About  this  time,  Captain  Burgwin, 
at  the  head  of  a  small  party,  left  the  cover  afforded  by 
the  flank  of  the  church,  and  penetrating  into  the  corral  in 
front  of  that  building,  endeavoured  to  force'  the  door.  In 
this  exposed  situation,  Captain  Burgwin  received  a  severe 
wound,  which  deprived  me  of  his  valuable  services,  and  of 
which  he  died  on  the  7th  instant.  Lieutenants  Mcllvaine, 
First  United  States  Dragoons,  and  Royall  and  Lackland, 
Second  Regiment  Volunteers,  accompanied  Captain  Burg- 
win into  the  corral,  but  the  attempt  on  the  church  door 
proved  fruitless,  and  they  were  compelled  to  retire  behind 
the  wall.  In  the  meantime,  small  holes  had  been  cut  in 
the  western  wall,  and  shells  were  thrown  in  by  hand, 
doing  good  execution.  The  six-pounder  was  now  brought 
around  by  Lieutenant  Wilson,  who,  at  the  distance  of 
two  hundred  yards,  poured  a  heavy  fire  of  grape  into  the 
town.  The  enemy,  during  all  of  this  time,  kept  up  a 
destructive  fire  upon  our  troops.  About  half-past  three 
o'clock,  the  six-pounder  was  run  up  within  sixty  yards  of 
the  church,  and  after  ten  rounds,  one  of  the  holes  which 
had  been  cut  with  the  axes  was  widened  into  ^practicable 
breach.  The  storming  party,  among  whom  were  Lieuten- 
ant Dyer,  of  the  ordnance,  and  Lieutenant  Wilson  and 
Taylor,  First  Dragoons,  entered  and  took  possession  of 
the  church  without  opposition.  The  interior  was  filled 
with  dense  smoke,  but  for  which  circumstance  our  storm- 
ing party  would  have  suffered  great  loss.  A  few  of  the 
enemy  were  seen  in  the  gallery,  where  an  open  door  ad- 
mitted the  air,  but  they  retired  without  firing  a  gun. 
The  troops  left  to  support  the  battery  on  the  north  side 
were  now  ordered  to  charge  on  that  side. 

" '  The  enemy  then  abandoned  the  western  part  of  the 
town.  Many  took  refuge  in  the  large  houses  on  the  east, 
while  others  endeavoured  to  escape  toward  the  mountains. 


130  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

These  latter  were  pursued  by  the  mounted  men  under 
Captains  Slack  and  St.  Vrain,  who  killed  fifty-one  of 
them,  only  two  or  three  men  escaping.  It  was  now 
night,  and  our  troops  were  quietly  quartered  in  the  house 
which  the  enemy  had  abandoned.  On  the  next  morning 
the  enemy  sued  for  peace,  and  thinking  the  severe  loss 
they  had  sustained  would  prove  a  salutary  lesson,  I  granted 
their  supplication,  on  the  condition  that  they  should  deliver 
xip  to  me  Tomas,  one  of  their  principal  men,  who  had  in- 
stigated and  been  actively  engaged  in  the  murder  of  Gov- 
ernor Bent  and  others.  The  number  of  the  enemy  at  the 
battle  of  Pueblo  de  Taos  was  between  six  and  seven 
hundred,  and  of  these  one  hundred  and  fifty  were  killed, 
wounded  not  known.  Our  own  loss  was  seven  killed  and 
forty-five  wounded;  many  of  the  wounded  have  since 
died.' 

"  The  capture  of  the  Taos  Pueblo  practically  ended  the 
main  attempt  to  expel  the  Americans  from  the  Territory. 
Governor  Montoya,  who  was  a  very  influential  man  in  the 
conspiracy  and  styled  himself  the  '  Santa  Ana  of  the 
North,'  was  tried  by  court-martial,  convicted,  and  exe- 
cuted on  February  7th,  in  the  presence  of  the  army. 
Fourteen  others  were  tried  for  participating  in  the  murder 
of  Governor  Bent  and  the  others  who  were  killed  on  the 
19th  of  January,  and  were  convicted  and  executed.  Thus, 
fifteen  in  all  were  hung,  being  an  equal  number  to  those 
murdered  at  Taos,  the  Arroyo  Hondo,  and  Rio  Colorado. 
Of  these,  eight  were  Mexicans  and  seven  were  Pueblo 
Indians.  Several  more  were  sentenced  to  be  hung  for 
treason,  but  the  President  very  properly  pardoned  them, 
on  the  around  that  treason  against  the  United  States  was 
not  a  crime  of  which  a  Mexican  citizen  could  be  found 
guilty,  while  his  country  was  actually  at  war  with  the 
United  States." 

There  are  several  thrilling,  as  well  as  laughable,  inci- 


THE   VALLEY  OF  TAOS  131 

dents  connected  with  the  Taos  massacre,  and  the  suc- 
ceeding trial  of  the  insurrectionists  ;  in  regard  to  which 
I  shall  quote  freely  from  Wah-to-yah,  whose  author,  Mr. 
Lewis  H.  Garrard,  accompanied  Colonel  St.  Vrain  across 
the  plains  in  1846,  and  was  present  at  the  trial  and  exe- 
cution of  the  convicted  participants. 

One  Fitzgerald,  who  was  a  private  in  Captain  Burg- 
win's  company  of  Dragoons,  in  the  fight  at  the  Pueblo  de 
Taos,  killed  three  Mexicans  with  his  own  hand,  and  per- 
formed heroic  work  with  the  bombs  that  were  thrown  into 
that  strong  Indian  fortress.  He  was  a  man  of  good  feel- 
ing, but  his  brother  having  been  killed,  or  rather  murdered 
by  Salazar,  while  a  prisoner  in  the  Texan  expedition  against 
Santa  Fe,  he  swore  vengeance,  and  entered  the  service  with 
the  hope  of  accomplishing  it.  The  day  following  the  fight 
at  the  Pueblo,  he  walked  up  to  the  alcalde,  and  deliber- 
ately shot  him  down.  For  this  act  lie  was  confined  to 
await  a  trial  for  murder. 

One  raw  night,  complaining  of  cold  to  his  guard, 
wood  was  brought,  which  he  piled  up  in  the  middle  of 
the  room.  Then  mounting  that,  and  succeeding  in  break- 
ing through  the  roof,  he  noiselessly  crept  to  the  eaves, 
below  which  a  sentinel,  wrapped  in  a  heavy  cloak,  paced 
to  and  fro,  to  prevent  his  escape.  He  watched  until  the 
guard's  back  was  turned,  then  swung  himself  from  the 
wall,  and  with  as  much  ease  as  possible,  walked  to  a 
mess-fire,  where  his  friends  in  waiting  supplied  him  with 
a  pistol  and  clothing.  When  day  broke,  the  town  of 
Fernandez  lay  far  beneath  him  in  the  valley,  and  two 
days  after  he  was  safe  in  our  camp. 

Many  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  ensued  during  the 
fight  at  Taos,  one  of  which  was  by  Colonel  Ceran  St.  Vrain, 
whom  I  knew  intimately ;  a  grand  old  gentleman,  now 
sleeping  peacefully  in  the  quaint  little  graveyard  at  Mora, 
New  Mexico,  where  he  resided  for  many  years.     The  gal- 


132  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

lant  colonel,  while  riding  along,  noticed  an  Indian  with 
whom  he  was  well  acquainted  lying  stretched  out  on  the 
ground  as  if  dead.  Confident  that  this  particular  red 
devil  had  been  especially  prominent  in  the  hellish  acts 
of  the  massacre,  the  colonel  dismounted  from  his  pony 
to  satisfy  himself  whether  the  savage  was  really  dead 
or  only  shamming.  He  was  far  from  being  a  corpse,  for 
the  colonel  had  scarcely  reached  the  spot,  when  the  Indian 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  attempted  to  run  a  long,  steel- 
pointed  lance  through  the  officer's  shoulder.  Colonel 
St.  Vrain  was  a  large,  powerfully  built  man ;  so  was  the 
Indian,  I  have  been  told.  As  each  of  the  struggling 
combatants  endeavoured  to  get  the  better  of  the  other, 
with  the  savage  having  a  little  the  advantage,  perhaps, 
it  appears  that  "  Uncle  Dick  "  Wooton,  who  was  in  the 
chase  after  the  rebels,  happened  to  arrive  on  the  scene, 
and  hitting  the  Indian  a  terrific  blow  on  the  head  with 
his  axe,  settled  the  question  as  to  his  being  a  corpse. 

Court  for  the  trial  of  the  insurrectionists  assembled 
at  nine  o'clock.  On  entering  the  room,  Judges  Beaubien 
and  Houghton  were  occupying  their  official  positions. 
After  many  dry  preliminaries,  six  prisoners  were  brought 
in  —  ill-favoured,  half-scared,  sullen  fellows  ;  and  the  jury 
of  Mexicans  and  Americans  having  been  empanelled, 
the  trial  commenced.  It  certainly  did  appear  to  be  a 
great  assumption  on  the  part  of  the  Americans  to  conquer 
a  country,  and  then  arraign  the  revolting  inhabitants  for 
treason.  American  judges  sat  on  the  bench.  New  Mexi- 
cans and  Americans  filled  the  jury-box,  and  American 
soldiery  guarded  the  halls.  It  was  a  strange  mixture  of 
violence  and  justice  —  a  middle  ground  between  the  mar- 
tial and  common  law. 

After  an  absence  of  a  few  minutes,  the  jury  returned 
with  a  verdict  of  ;'  guilty  in  the  first  degree  "  —  five  for 
murder,  one  for  treason.      Treason,  indeed  !     What   did 


THE    VALLEY   OF  TAOS  133 

the  poor  devil  know  about  his  new  allegiance  ?  But  so  it 
was  ;  and  as  the  jail  was  overstocked  with  others  awaiting 
trial,  it  was  deemed  expedient  to  hasten  the  execution, 
and  the  culprits  were  sentenced  to  be  hung  on  the  follow- 
ing Friday  —  hangman's  day. 

Court  was  daily  in  session  ;  five  more  Indians  and 
four  Mexicans  were  sentenced  to  be  hung  on  the  30th 
of  April.  In  the  court  room,  on  the  occasion  of  the  trial 
of  these  nine  prisoners,  were  Seiiora  Bent  the  late  gov- 
ernor's wife,  and  Seiiora  Boggs,  giving  their  evidence  in 
regard  to  the  massacre,  of  which  they  were  eye-witnesses. 
Mrs.  Bent  was  quite  handsome  ;  a  few  years  previously 
she  must  have  been  a  beautiful  woman.  The  wife  of  the 
renowned  Kit  Carson  also  was  in  attendance.  Her  style 
of  beauty  was  of  the  haughty,  heart-breaking  kind  — 
such  as  would  lead  a  man,  with  a  glance  of  the  eye,  to 
risk  his  life  for  one  smile. 

The  court  room  was  a  small,  oblong  apartment,  dimly 
lighted  by  two  narrow  windows  ;  a  thin  railing  keeping 
the  bystanders  from  contact  with  the  functionaries.  The 
prisoners  faced  the  judges,  and  the  three  witnesses  — 
Senoras  Bent,  Boggs,  and  Carson  —  were  close  to  them 
on  a  bench  by  the  wall.  When  Mrs.  Bent  gave  her  testi- 
mony, the  eyes  of  the  culprits  were  fixed  sternly  upon  her; 
when  she  pointed  out  the  Indian  who  had  killed  the 
governor,  not  a  muscle  of  the  chief's  face  twitched  or 
betrayed  agitation,  though  he  was  aware  her  evidence 
settled  his  death  warrant ;  he  sat  with  lips  gently  closed, 
eyes  earnestly  fixed  on  her,  without  a  show  of  malice 
or  hatred  —  a  spectacle  of  Indian  fortitude,  and  of  the 
severe  mastery  to  which  the  emotions  can  be  subjected. 

Among  the  jurors  was  a  trapper  named  Baptiste  Brown, 
a  Frenchman,  as  were  the  majority  of  the  trappers  in  the 
early  days  of  the  border.  He  was  an  exceptionally  kind- 
hearted  man  when  he  first  came  to  the  mountains,  and  seri- 


134  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

ously  inclined  to  regard  the  Indians  with  that  mistaken 
sentimentality  characterizing  the  average  New  England 
philanthropist,  who  has  never  seen  the  untutored  savage 
on  his  native  heath.  His  ideas,  however,  underwent  a 
marked  change  as  the  years  rolled  on  and  he  became 
more  familiar  with  the  attributes  of  the  noble  red  man. 
He  was  with  Kit  Carson  in  the  Blackfeet  country  many 
years  before  the  Taos  massacre,  when  his  convictions  were 
thus  modified,  and  it  was  from  the  famous  frontiersman 
himself  I  learned  the  story  of  Baptiste's  conversion. 

It  was  late  one  night  in  their  camp  on  one  of  the  many 
creeks  in  the  Blackfoot  region,  where  they  had  been 
established  for  several  weeks,  and  Baptiste  was  on  duty, 
guarding  their  meat  and  furs  from  the  incursions  of  a  too 
inquisitive  grizzly  that  had  been  prowling  around,  and 
the  impertinent  investigations  of  the  wolves.  His  atten- 
tion was  attracted  to  something  high  up  in  a  neighbouring 
tree,  that  seemed  restless,  changing  its  position  constantly 
like  an  animal  of  prey.  The  Frenchman  drew  a  bead 
upon  it,  and  there  came  tumbling  down  at  bis  feet  a  dead 
savage,  with  his  war-paint  and  other  Indian  parapher- 
nalia adorning  his  body.  Baptiste  was  terribly  hurt 
over  the  circumstance  of  having  killed  an  Indian,  and 
it  grieved  him  for  a  long  time.  One  day,  a  month  after 
the  incident,  he  was  riding  alone  far  away  from  our  party, 
and  out  of  sound  of  their  rifles  as  Avell,  when  a  band  of 
Blackfeet  discovered  him  and  started  for  his  scalp.  He 
had  no  possible  chance  for  escape  except  by  the  endur- 
ance of  his  horse  ;  so  a  race  for  life  began.  He  expe- 
rienced no  trouble  in  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  their 
arrows  —  the  Indians  had  no  guns  then  —  and  hoped  to 
make  camp  before  they  could  possibly  wear  out  his  horse. 
Just  as  he  was  congratulating  himself  on  his  luck,  right 
in  front  of  him  there  suddenly  appeared  a  great  gorge, 
and  not  daring  to  stop  or  to  turn  to  the  right  or  left, 


THE   VALLEY   OF   TAOS  135 

the  onl)'  thing  to  do  was  to  make  his  animal  jump  it. 
It  was  his  only  chance  ;  it  was  death  if  he  missed  it, 
and  death  by  the  most  horrible  torture  if  the  Indians 
captured  him.  So  he  drove  his  heels  into  his  horse's 
sides,  and  essayed  the  awful  leap.  His  willing  animal 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  carry  out  the  desire  of  his 
daring  rider,  but  the  dizzy  chasm  was  too  wide,  and 
the  pursuing  savages  saw  both  horse  and  the  coveted 
white  man  dash  to  the  bottom  of  the  frightful  canon 
together.  Believing  that  their  hated  enemy  had  eluded 
them  forever,  they  rode  back  on  their  trail,  disgusted  and 
chagrined,  without  even  taking  the  trouble  of  looking 
over  the  precipice  to  learn  the  fate  of  Baptiste. 

The  horse  was  instantly  killed,  and  the  Frenchman 
had  both  of  his  legs  badly  broken.  Far  from  camp,  with 
the  Indians  in  close  proximity,  he  did  not  dare  dis- 
charge his  rifle  —  the  usual  signal  when  a  trapper  is  lost 
or  in  danger  —  or  to  make  any  demonstration,  so  he  was 
compelled  to  lie  there  and  suffer,  hoping  that  his  com- 
rades, missing  him,  would  start  out  to  search  for  him. 
They  did  so,  but  more  than  twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed 
before  they  found  him,  as  the  bottom  of  the  canon  was 
the  last  place  they  thought  of. 

Doctors,  in  the  wild  region  where  their  camp  was 
located,  were  as  impossible  as  angels ;  so  his  companions 
set  his  broken  bones  as  well  as  they  could,  while  Baptiste 
suffered  excruciating  torture.  When  they  had  completed 
their  crude  surgery,  they  improvised  a  litter  of  poles,  and 
rigged  it  on  a  couple  of  pack-mules,  and  thus  carried  him 
around  with  them  from  camp  to  camp  until  he  recovered 
—  a  period  extending  over  three  months. 

This  affair  completely  cured  Baptiste  of  his  original 
sentimentality  in  relation  to  the  Indian,  and  he  became 
one  of  their  worst  haters. 

When  acting  as  a  juror  in  the  trials  of  rebel  Mexicans 


136  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

and  Indians,  he  was  asleep  half  the  time,  and  never  heard 
much  of  the  evidence,  and  that  portion  which  he  did  was 
so  much  Greek  to  him.  In  the  last  nine  cases,  in  which 
the  Indian  who  had  murdered  Governor  Bent  was  tried, 
Baptiste,  as  soon  as  the  jury  room  was  closed,  sang  out : 
"  Hang  'em,  hang  'em,  sacre  enfans  des  garces,  dey  dam 
gran  rascale ! '"  "But  wait,"  suggested  one  of  the  cooler 
members  ;  "  let's  look  at  the  evidence  and  find  out  whether 
they  are  really  guilty."  Upon  this  wise  caution,  Baptiste 
got  greatly  excited,  paced  the  floor,  and  cried  out : 
"  Hang  de  Indian  anyhow  ;  he  may  not  be  guilty  now  — 
mais  he  vare  soon  will  be.  Hang  'em  all,  parceque  dey 
kill  Monsieur  Charles  ;  dey  take  son  topknot,  vot  you  call 
im  —  scalp.     Hang  'em,  hang  'em  —  sa-a-cre-e  ! " 

On  Friday  the  9th,  the  day  for  the  execution,  the 
sky  was  unspotted,  save  by  hastily  fleeting  clouds ;  and 
as  the  rising  sun  loomed  over  the  Taos  Mountain,  the 
bright  rays,  shining  on  the  yellow  and  white  mud-houses, 
reflected  cheerful  hues,  while  the  shades  of  the  toppling 
peaks,  receding  from  the  plain  beneath,  drew  within  them- 
selves. The  humble  valley  wore  an  air  of  calm  repose. 
The  Plaza  was  deserted ;  woe-begone  burros  drawled 
forth  sacrilegious  brays,  as  the  warm  sunbeams  ,  roused 
them  from  hard,  grassless  ground,  to  scent  their  break- 
fast among  straw  and  hones. 

Poor  Mexicans  hurried  to  and  fro,  casting  suspicious 
glances  around ;  los  Yankees  at  El  casa  Americano  drank 
their  juleps,  and  puffed  their  cigarettes  in  silence. 

The  sheriff,  Metcalf,  formerly  a  mountaineer,  was  in 
want  of  the  wherewithal  to  hang  the  condemned  criminals, 
so  he  borrowed  some  rawhide  lariats  and  picket-ropes  of 
a  teamster. 

"Hello,  Met,"  said  one  of  the  party  present,  "these 
reatas  are  mighty  stiff  —  won't  fit ;  eh,  old  feller?" 

"I've  got  something  to  make  'em  fit  —  good  'intment 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  137 

—  don't  emit  very  sweet  perfume  ;  but  good  enough  for 
Greasers,"  said  the  sheriff,  producing  a  dollar's  worth  of 
Mexican  soft  soap.  "  This'll  make  'em  slip  easy  —  a 
long  ways  too  easy  for  them,  I  'spect." 

The  prison  apartment  was  a  long  chilly  room,  badly 
ventilated  by  one  small  window  and  the  open  door, 
through  which  the  sun  lit  up  the  earth  floor,  and  through 
which  the  poor  prisoners  wistfully  gazed.  Two  muscu- 
lar Mexicans  basked  in  its  genial  warmth,  a  tattered 
serape  interposing  between  them  and  the  ground.  The 
ends,  once  fringed  but  now  clear  of  pristine  ornament, 
were  partly  drawn  over  their  breasts,  disclosing  in  the 
openings  of  their  fancifully  colored  shirts  —  now  glazed 
with  filth  and  faded  with  perspiration  —  the  bare  skin, 
covered  with  straight  black  hair.  With  hands  under 
their  heads,  in  the  mass  of  stringy  locks  rusty-brown 
from  neglect,  they  returned  the  looks  of  their  executioners 
with  an  unmeaning  stare,  and  unheedingly  received  the 
salutation  of  —  "Oomo  le  va!" 

Along  the  sides  of  the  room,  leaning  against  the  walls, 
were  crowded  the  poor  wretches,  miserable  in  dress,  mis- 
erable in  features,  miserable  in  feelings  —  a  more  disgust- 
ing collection  of  ragged,  greasy,  unwashed  prisoners 
were,  probably,  never  before  congregated  within  so  small 
a  space  as  the  jail  of  Taos. 

About  nine  o'clock,  active  preparations  were  made  for 
the  execution,  and  the  soldiery  mustered.  Reverend 
padres  in  long  black  gowns,  with  meek  countenances, 
passed  the  sentinels,  intent  on  spiritual  consolation,  or 
the  administration  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Willock,  commanding  the  military, 
ordered  every  American  under  arms.  The  prison  was  at 
the  edge  of  the  town ;  no  houses  intervened  between  it 
and  the  fields  to  the  north.  One  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
distant,  a  gallows  was  erected 


138  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

The  word  was  passed,  at  last,  that  the  criminals  were 
coming.  Eighteen  soldiers  received  them  at  the  gate, 
with  their  muskets  at  "port  arms"  ;  the  six  abreast,  with 
the  sheriff  on  the  right  —  nine  soldiers  on  each  side. 

The  poor  prisoners  marched  slowly,  with  downcast 
eyes,  arms  tied  behind,  and  bare  heads,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  white  cotton  caps  stuck  on  the  back,  to  be  pulled 
over  the  face  as  the  last  ceremony. 

The  roofs  of  the  houses  in  the  vicinity  were  covered 
with  women  and  children,  to  witness  the  first  execution 
by  hanging  in  the  valley  of  Taos,  save  that  of  Montojo, 
the  insurgent  leader.  No  men  were  near  ;  a  few  stood 
afar  off,  moodily  looking  on. 

On  the  flat  jail  roof  was  placed  a  mountain  howitzer, 
loaded  and  ranging  the  gallows.  Near  was  the  comple- 
ment of  men  to  serve  it,  one  holding  in  his  hand  a  lighted 
match.  The  two  hundred  and  thirty  soldiers,  less  the 
eighteen  forming  the  guard,  were  paraded  in  front  of  the 
jail,  and  in  sight  of  the  gibbet,  so  as  to  secure  the  pris- 
oners awaiting  trial.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Willock,  on  a 
handsome  charger,  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole. 

When  within  fifteen  paces  of  the  gallows,  the  side-guard, 
filing  off  to  the  right,  formed,  at  regular  distances  from 
each  other,  three  sides  of  a  hollow  square  ;  the  moun- 
taineers composed  the  fourth  and  front  side,  in  full  view 
of  the  trembling  prisoners,  who  marched  up  to  the  tree 
under  which  was  a  government  wagon,  with  two  mules 
attached.  The  driver  and  sheriff  assisted  them  in,  rang- 
ing them  on  a  board,  placed  across  the  hinder  end,  which 
maintained  its  balance,  as  they  were  six, — an  even  num- 
ber,—  two  on  each  extremity,  and  two  in  the  middle. 
The  gallows  was  so  narrow  that  they  touched.  The 
ropes,  by  reason  of  their  size  and  stiffness,  despite  the 
soaping  given  them,  were  adjusted  with  difficulty ;  but 
through   the    indefatigable   efforts   of    the    sheriff    and    a 


THE   VALLEY   OF  TAOS  139 

lieutenant  who  had  accompanied  him,  all  preliminaries 
were  arranged,  although  the  blue  uniform  looked  sadly 
out  of  place  on  a  hangman. 

With  rifles  at  a  "  shoulder,"  the  military  awaited  the 
consummation  of  the  tragedy.  There  was  no  crowd 
around  to  disturb  ;  a  death-like  stillness  prevailed.  The 
spectators  on  the  roofs  seemed  scarcely  to  move  —  their 
eyes  were  directed  to  the  doomed  wretches,  with  harsh 
halters  now  encircling  their  necks. 

The  sheriff  and  his  assistant  sat  down ;  after  a  few 
moments  of  intense  expectation,  the  heart-wrung  victims 
said  a  few  words  to  their  people.  Only  one  of  them 
admitted  he  had  committed  murder  and  deserved  death. 
In  their  brief  but  earnest  appeals,  the  words  "  mi  padre, 
mi  madre  "  —  "  my  father,  my  mother  " —  were  prominent. 
The  one  sentenced  for  treason  showed  a  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism worthy  of  the  cause  for  which  he  died,  —  the  liberty 
of  his  country ;  and  instead  of  the  cringing  recantation 
of  the  others,  his  speech  was  a  firm  asseveration  of  his 
own  innocence,  the  unjustness  of  his  trial,  and  the  arbi- 
trary conduct  of  his  murderers.  As  the  cap  was  pulled 
over  his  face,  the  last  words  he  uttered  between  his  teeth 
with  a  scowl  were  "Oarajo,  los  Americanos ! '" 

At  a  word  from  the  sheriff,  the  mules  were  started, 
and  the  wagon  drawn  from  under  the  tree.  No  fall 
was  given,  and  their  feet  remained  on  the  board  till  the 
ropes  drew  tight.  The  bodies  swayed  back  and  forth, 
and  while  thus  swinging,  the  hands  of  two  came  to- 
gether with  a  firm  grasp  till  the  muscles  loosened  in 
death. 

After  forty  minutes'  suspension,  Colonel  Willock  ordered 
his  command  to  quarters,  and  the  howitzer  to  be  taken 
from  its  place  on  the  roof  of  the  jail.  The  soldiers  were 
called  away ;  the  women  and  population  in  general  col- 
lecting   around    the    rear    guard    which   the    sheriff    had 


140 


THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 


retained  for  protection  while  delivering  the  dead  to  their 
weeping  relatives. 

While  cutting  a  rope  from  one  man's  neck,  —  for  it  was 
in  a  hard  knot, — the  owner,  a  government  teamster  stand- 
ing hy  waiting,  shouted  angrily,  at  the  same  time  stepping 
forward : 

"  Hello  there  !  don't  cut  that  rope ;  I  won't  have  any- 
thing to  tie  my  mules  with." 

"  Oh  !  you  darned  fool,"  interposed  a  mountaineer,  "the 
dead  men's  ghosts  will  be  after  you  if  you  use  them  lariats 
—  wagh  !  They'll  make  meat  of  you  sartain." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  they  do.  I'm  in  government 
service  ;  and  if  them  picket  halters  was  gone,  slap  down 
goes  a  dollar  apiece.  Money's  scarce  in  these  diggin's, 
and  I'm  going  to  save  all  I  kin  to  take  home  to  the  old 
woman  and  boys." 


Church  at  Tico 


CHAPTER    IX 

INDEPENDENCE OPENING  OF  NAVIGATION  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

EFFECT    OF   WATER    TRANSPORTATION    UPON    THE    TRADE 

ESTABLISHMENT    OF    TRADING-FORTS MARKET     FOR    CATTLE 

AND    MULES WAGES    PAID   TEAMSTERS   ON   THE   TRAIL AN 

ENTERPRISING     COLORED     MAN INCREASE      OF      THE     TRADE 

AT     THE     CLOSE     OF     THE    MEXICAN     WAR HEAVY    EMIGRA- 
TION   TO    CALIFORNIA FIRST    OVERLAND    MAIL HOW   THE 

GUARDS    WERE    ARMED PASSENGER    COACHES    TO    SANTA    FE 

STAGE-COACHING   DAYS 


N  the    summit   of   one   of 
the  highest  plateaus  bor- 
dering the  Missouri  Riv- 
er, surrounded  by  a  rich 
expanse    of    foliage,   lies 
Independence,  the  beau- 
tiful residence   suburb   of 
Kansas  City,  only  ten  miles 
distant. 

Tradition  tells  that 
early  in  this  century  there 
were  a  few  pioneers  camp- 
ing at  Ions'  distances  from 
each  other  in  the  seemingly  in- 
terminable woods  ;  in  summer  engaged  in  hunting  the 
deer,  elk,  and  bear,  and  in  winter  in  trapping.  It  is  a 
well-known  fact  that  the  Big  Blue  was  once  a  favourite 
resort  of  the  beaver,  and  that  even  later  their  presence  in 

141  i 


142  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

great  numbers  attracted  many  a  veteran  trapper  to  its 
waters. 

Before  that  period  the  quaint  old  cities  of  far-off  Mex- 
ico were  forbidden  to  foreign  traders,  excepting  to  the 
favoured  few  who  were  successful  in  obtaining  permits 
from  the  Spanish  government.  In  1821,  however,  the 
rebellion  of  Iturbide  crushed  the  power  of  the  mother 
country,  and  established  the  freedom  of  Mexico.  The 
embargo  upon  foreign  trade  was  at  once  removed,  and  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail,  for  untold  ages  only  a  simple  trace  across 
the  continent,  became  the  busy  highway  of  a  relatively 
great  commerce. 

In  1817  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  River  was 
begun.  On  the  2d  of  August  of  that  year  the  steamer 
General  Pike  arrived  at  St.  Louis.  The  first  boat  to 
ascend  the  Missouri  River  was  the  Independence;  she 
passed  Franklin  on  the  28th  of  May,  1819,  where  a  dinner 
was  given  to  her  officers.  In  the  same  and  the  following 
month  of  that  year,  the  steamers  Western  Engineer  Ex- 
pedition, and  R.  M.  Johnson  came  along,  carrying  Major 
Long's  scientific  exploring  party,  bound  for  the  Yellow- 
stone. 

The  Santa  Fe  trade  having  been  inaugurated  shortly 
after  these  important  events,  those  engaged  in  it  soon  real- 
ized the  benefits  of  river  navigation,  —  for  it  enabled  them 
to  shorten  the  distance  which  their  wagons  had  to  travel 
in  going  across  the  plains,  —  and  they  began  to  look  out  for 
a  suitable  place  as  a  shipping  and  outfitting  point  higher 
up  the  river  than  Franklin,  which  had  been  the  initial 
starting  town. 

By  1827  trading-posts  had  been  established  at  Blue 
Mills,  Fort  Osage,  and  Independence.  The  first-men- 
tioned place,  which  is  situated  about  six  miles  below  In- 
dependence, soon  became  the  favourite  landing,  and  the 
exchange   from   wagons    to   boats   settled    and   defied   all 


FIRST   OVERLAND    MAIL  143 

efforts  to  remove  the  headquarters  of  the  trade  from  there 
for  several  years.  Independence,  however,  being  the 
county  seat  and  the  larger  place,  succeeded  in  its  claims 
to  be  the  more  suitable  locality,  and  as  early  as  1832  it 
was  recognized  as  the  American  headquarters  and  the 
great  outfitting  jioint  for  the  Santa  Fe  commerce,  which 
it  continued  to  be  until  1846,  when  the  traffic  was  tempo- 
rarily suspended  by  the  breaking  out  of  the  Mexican  War. 

Independence  was  not  only  the  principal  outfitting 
point  for  the  Santa  Fe  traders,  but  also  that  of  the  great 
fur  companies.  That  powerful  association  used  to  send 
out  larger  pack-trains  than  any  other  parties  engaged  in 
the  traffic  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  they  also  employed 
wagons  drawn  by  mules,  and  loaded  with  goods  for  .the 
Indians  with  whom  their  agents  bartered,  which  also  on 
their  return  trip  transported  the  skins  and  pelts  of  ani- 
mals procured  from  the  savages.  The  articles  intended 
for  the  Indian  trade  were  always  purchased  in  St.  Louis, 
and  usually  shipped  to  Independence,  consigned  to  the 
firm  of  Aull  and  Companjr,  who  outfitted  the  traders 
with  mules  and  provisions,  and  in  fact  anything  else  re- 
quired by  them. 

Several  individual  traders  would  frequently  form  joint 
caravans,  and  travel  in  company  for  mutual  protection 
from  the  Indians.  After  having  reached  a  fifty-mile 
limit  from  the  State  line,  each  trader  had  control  of  his 
own  men  ;  each  took  care  of  a  certain  number  of  the  pack- 
animals,  loaded  and  unloaded  thein  in  camp,  and  had  gen- 
eral supervision  of  them. 

Frequently  there  would  be  three  hundred  mules  in  a 
single  caravan,  carrying  three  hundred  pounds  apiece,  and 
very  large  animals  more.  Thousands  of  wagons  were 
also  sent  out  from  Independence  annually,  each  drawn 
by  twelve  mules  or  six  yoke  of  oxen,  and  loaded  with 
general  merchandise. 


144  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

There  were  no  packing  houses  in  those  days  nearer  than 
St.  Louis,  and  the  bacon  and  beef  used  in  the  Santa  Fe 
trade  were  furnished  by  the  farmers  of  the  surrounding 
country,  who  killed  their  meat,  cured  it,  and  transported 
it  to  the  town  where  they  sold  it.  Their  wheat  was  also 
ground  at  the  local  mills,  and  they  brought  the  flour  to 
market,  together  with  corn,  dried  fruit,  beans,  peas,  and 
kindred  provisions  used  on  the  long  route  across  the 
plains. 

Independence  very  soon  became  the  best  market  west 
of  St.  Louis  for  cattle,  mules,  and  wagons ;  the  trade  of 
which  the  place  Avas  the  acknowledged  headquarters  fur- 
nishing employment  to  several  thousand  men,  including 
the  teamsters  and  packers  on  the  Trail.  The  wages  paid 
varied  from  twenty-five  to  fifty  dollars  a  month  and  ra- 
tions. The  price  charged  for  hauling  freight  to  Santa  Fe 
was  ten  dollars  a  hundred  pounds,  each  wagon  earning 
from  five  to  six  hundred  dollars  every  trip,  which  was 
made  in  eighty  or  ninety  days  ;  some  fast  caravans  mak- 
ing quicker  time. 

The  merchants  and  general  traders  of  Independence  in 
those  days  reaped  a  grand  harvest.  Everything  to  eat 
was  in  constant  demand ;  mules  and  oxen  were  sold  in 
great  numbers  every  month  at  excellent  prices  and  always 
for  cash  :  while  any  good  stockman  could  readily  make 
from  ten  to  fifty  dollars  a  day. 

One  of  the  largest  manufacturers  and  most  enterpris- 
ing young  men  in  Independence  at  that  time  was  Hiram 
Youno1,  a  coloured  man.  Besides  making  hundreds  of 
wagons,  he  made  all  the  ox-yokes  used  in  the  entire 
traffic  ;  fifty  thousand  annually  during  the  '50's  and  until 
the  breaking  out  of  the  Avar.  The  forward  yokes  were 
sold  at  an  average  of  one  dollar  and  a  quarter,  the  Avheel 
yokes  a  dollar  higher. 

The  freight  transported  by  the  wagons  was  always  very 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  145 

securely  loaded  ;  each  package  had  its  contents  plainly 
marked  on  the  outside.  The  wagons  were  heavily  cov- 
ered and  tightly  closed.  Every  man  belonging  to  the 
caravan  was  thoroughly  armed,  and  ever  on  the  alert  to 
repulse  an  attack  by  the  Indians. 

Sometimes  at  the  crossing  of  the  Arkansas  the  quick- 
sands were  so  bad  that  it  was  necessary  to  get  the  caravan 
over  in  a  hurry  ;  then  forty  or  fifty  yoke  of  oxen  were 
hitched  to  one  wagon  and  it  was  quickly  yanked  through 
the  treacherous  ford.  This  was  not  alwa}rs  the  case,  how- 
ever ;  it  depended  upon  the  stage  of  water  and  recent 
floods. 

After  the  close  of  the  war  with  Mexico,  the  freight 
business  across  the  plains  increased  to  a  wonderful  degree. 
The  possession  of  the  country  by  the  United  States  gave 
a  fresh  impetus  to  the  New  Mexico  trade,  and  the  traffic 
then  began  to  be  divided  between  Westport  and  Kansas 
City.  Independence  lost  control  of  the  overland  commerce 
and  Kansas  City  commenced  its  rapid  growth.  Then 
came  the  discovery  of  gold  in  California,  and  this  gave 
an  increased  business  westward ;  for  thousands  of  men 
and  their  families  crossed  the  plains  and  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, seeking  their  fortunes  in  the  new  El  Dorado.  The 
Old  Trail  was  the  highway  of  an  enormous  pilgrimage, 
and  both  Independence  and  Kansas  City  became  the  ini- 
tial point  of  a  wonderful  emigration. 

In  Independence  may  still  be  seen  a  few  of  the  old 
landmarks  when  it  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Santa 
Fe  trade. 

An  overland  mail  was  started  from  the  busy  town  as 
early  as  1849.  In  an  old  copy  of  the  Missouri  Common- 
wealth, published  there  under  the  date  of  July,  1850, 
which  I  found  on  file  in  the  Kansas  State  Historical 
Society,  there  is  the  following  account  of  the  first  mail 
stage  westward  :  — 


146  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

"We  briefly  alluded,  some  days  since,  to  the  Santa  Fe 
line  of  mail  stages,  which  left  this  city  on  its  first  monthly 
journey  on  the  1st  instant.  The  stages  are  got  up  in 
elegant  style,  and  are  each  arranged  to  convey  eight  pas- 
sengers. The  bodies  are  beautifully  painted,  and  made 
water-tight,  with  a  view  of  using  them  as  boats  in  ferry- 
ing streams.  The  team  consists  of  six  mules  to  each 
coach.  The  mail  is  guarded  by  eight  men,  armed  as  fol- 
lows :  Each  man  has  at  his  side,  fastened  in  the  stage,  one 
of  Colt's  revolving  rifles  ;  in  a  holster  below,  one  of  Colt's 
long  revolvers,  and  in  his  belt  a  small  Colt's  revolver, 
besides  a  hunting-knife;  so  that  these  eight  men  are 
ready,  in  case  of  attack,  to  discharge  one  hundred  and 
thirty-six  shots  without  having  to  reload.  This  is  equal 
to  a  small  army,  armed  as  in  the  ancient  times,  and  from 
the  looks  of  this  escort,  ready  as  they  are,  either  for  offen- 
sive or  defensive  warfare  with  the  savages,  we  have  no 
fears  for  the  safety  of  the  mails. 

"  The  accommodating  contractors  have  established  a 
sort  of  base  of  refitting  at  Council  Grove,  a  distance  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  this  city,  and  have  sent 
out  a  blacksmith,  and  a  number  of  men  to  cut  and  cure 
hay,  with  a  quantity  of  animals,  grain,  and  provisions ; 
and  we  understand  they  intend  to  make  a  sort  of  travel- 
ling station  there,  and  to  commence  a  farm.  They  also, 
we  believe,  intend  to  make  a  similar  settlement  at  Wal- 
nut Creek  next  season.  Two  of  their  stages  will  start 
from  here  the  first  of  every  month." 

The  old  stage-coach  days  were  times  of  Western 
romance  and  adventure,  and  the  stories  told  of  that 
era  of  the  border  have  a  singular  fascination  in  this 
age  of  annihilation  of  distance. 

Very  few,  if  any,  of  the  famous  men  who  handled  the 
"  ribbons  "  in  those  dangerous  days  of  the  slow  journey 
across  the  great  plains  are  among  the  living ;    like  the 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  147 

clumsy  and  forgotten  coaches  they  drove,  they  have  them- 
selves been  mouldering  into  dust  these  many  years. 

In  many  places  on  the  line  of  the  Trail,  where  the 
hard  hills  have  not  been  subjected  to  the  plough,  the 
deep  ruts  cut  by  the  lumbering  Concord  coaches  may 
yet  be  distinctly  traced.  Particularly  are  they  visible 
from  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  track,  as  the 
cars  thunder  rapidly  toward  the  city  of  Great  Bend,  in 
Kansas,  three  miles  east  of  that  town.  Let  the  tourist  as 
he  crosses  Walnut  Creek  look  out  of  his  window  toward 
the  east  at  an  angle  of  about  thirty-five  degrees,  and  on 
the  flint  hills  which  slope  gradually  toward  the  railroad, 
he  will  observe,  very  distinctly,  the  Old  Trail,  where  it 
once  drew  down  from  the  divide  to  make  the  ford  at  the 
little  stream. 

The  monthly  stages  started  from  each  end  of  the  route 
at  the  same  time  ;  later  the  service  was  increased  to  once 
a  week  ;  after  a  while  to  three  times,  until  in  the  early 
'60's  daily  stages  were  run  from  both  ends  of  the  route, 
and  this  was  continued  until  the  advent  of  the  railroad. 

Each  coach  carried  eleven  passengers,  nine  closely 
stowed  inside  —  three  on  a  seat  —  and  two  on  the  out- 
side on  the  boot  with  the  driver.  The  fare  to  Santa  Fe 
was  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  the  allowance  of  bag- 
gage being  limited  to  forty  pounds ;  all  in  excess  of  that 
cost  half  a  dollar  a  pound.  In  this  now  seemingly  large 
sum  was  included  the  board  of  the  travellers,  but  they 
Avere  not  catered  to  in  any  extravagant  manner ;  hard- 
tack, bacon,  and  coffee  usually  exhausted  the  menu,  save 
that  at  times  there  was  an  abundance  of  antelope  and 
buffalo. 

There  was  always  something  exciting  in  those  journeys 
from  the  Missouri  to  the  mountains  in  the  lumbering 
Concord  coach.  There  was  the  constant  fear  of  meeting 
the  wily  red  man,  who  persistently  hankered   after   the 


148  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

white  man's  hair.  Then  there  was  the  playfulness  of 
the  sometimes  drunken  driver,  who  loved  to  upset  his 
tenderfoot  travellers  in  some  arroya,  long  after  the  moon 
had  sunk  below  the  horizon. 

It  required  about  two  weeks  to  make  the  trip  from 
the  Missouri  River  to  Santa  Fe,  unless  high  water  or  a 
fight  with  the  Indians  made  it  several  days  longer.  The 
animals  were  changed  every  twenty  miles  at  first,  but 
later,  every  ten,  when  faster  time  was  made.  What 
sleep  was  taken  could  only  be  had  while  sitting  bolt  up- 
right, because  there  Avas  no  laying  over;  the  stage  con- 
tinued on  night  and  day  until  Santa  Fe  was  reached. 

After  a  few  years,  the  company  built  stations  at  inter- 
vals varying  from  ten  miles  to  fifty  or  more  ;  and  there  the 
animals  and  drivers  were  changed,  and  meals  furnished 
to  travellers,  which  were  always  substantial,  but  never 
elegant   in  variety  or  cleanliness. 

Who  can  ever  forget  those  meals  at  the  "stations,"  of 
which  you  were  obliged  to  partake  or  go  hungry  :  biscuit 
hard  enough  to  serve  as  "  round-shot,"  and  a  vile  decoc- 
tion called,  through  courtesy,  coffee,  —  but  God  help  the 
man  who  disputed  it  ! 

Some  stations,  however,  Avere  notable  exceptions,  par- 
ticularly in  the  mountains  of  New  Mexico,  Avhere,  aside 
from  the  bread,  —  usually  only  tortillas,  made  of  the  blue- 
flint  corn  of  the  country,  —  and  coffee  composed  of  the 
saints  may  know  what,  the  meals  Avere  excellent.  The 
most  delicious  brook  trout,  alternating  with  venison  of 
the  black-tailed  deer,  elk,  bear,  and  all  the  other  varieties 
of  game  abounding  in  the  region  cost  you  one  dollar, 
but  the  station-keeper  a  mere  trifle  :  no  Avonder  the  old 
residents  and  ranchmen  on  the  line  of  the  Old  Trail 
lament  the  good  times  of  the  overland  stage  ! 

Thirteen  years  ago  I  revisited  the  once  Avell-known 
Kosloskie's  Ranch,  a  picturesque  cabin  at  the  foot  of  the 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  149 

Glorieta  Mountains,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  ruins  on 
the  Rio  Pecos.  The  old  Pole  was  absent,  but  his  wife  was 
there  ;  and,  although  I  had  not  seen  her  for  fifteen  years, 
she  remembered  me  well,  and  at  once  began  to  deplore 
the  changed  condition  of  the  country  since  the  advent  of 
the  railroad,  declaring  it  had  ruined  their  family  with  many 
others.  I  could  not  disagree  with  her  view  of  the  matter, 
as  I  looked  on  the  debris  of  a  former  relative  greatness  all 
around  me.  I  recalled  the  fact  that  once  Kosloskie's 
Ranch  was  the  favourite  eating  station  on  the  Trail ; 
where  you  were  ever  sure  of  a  substantial  meal,  —  the 
main  feature  of  which  was  the  delicious  brook  trout, 
which  were  caught  out  of  the  stream  which  ran  near  the 
door  while  you  were  washing  the  dust  out  of  your  eyes 
and  ears. 

The  trout  have  vacated  the  Pecos ;  the  ranch  is  a  ruin, 
and  stands  in  grim  contrast  with  the  old  temple  and 
church  on  the  hill ;  and  both  are  monuments  of  civiliza- 
tions that  will  never  come   again. 

Weeds  and  sunflowers  mark  the  once  broad  trail  to 
the  quaint  Aztec  city,  and  silence  reigns  in  the  beautiful 
valley,  save  when  broken  by  the  passage  of  "  The  Flyer  " 
of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  railway,  as  it 
struggles  up  the  heavy  grade  of  the  Glorieta  Mountains 
a  mile  or  more  distant. 

Besides  the  driver,  there  was  another  employee,  — the 
conductor  or  messenger,  as  he  was  called.  He  had  charge 
of  the  mail  and  express  matter,  collected  the  fares,  and 
attended  generally  to  the  requirements  of  those  com- 
mitted to  his  care  during  the  tedious  journey ;  for  he 
was  not  changed  like  the  driver,  but  stayed  with  the 
coach  from  its  starting  to  its  destination.  Sometimes 
fourteen  individuals  were  accommodated  in  case  of  emer- 
gency ;  but  it  was  terribly  crowded  and  uncomfortable 
riding,  with  no  chance  to  stretch  your  limbs,  save  for  a 


150  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

few  moments  at  stations  where  }rou  ate  and  changed 
animals. 

In  starting  from  Independence,  powerful  horses  were 
attached  to  the  coach,  —  generally  four  in  number  ;  but  at 
the  first  station  they  were  exchanged  for  mules,  and  these 
animals  hauled  it  the  remainder  of  the  way.  Drivers 
were  changed  about  eight  times  in  making  the  trip  to 
Santa  Fe  ;  and  some  of  them  were  comical  fellows,  but 
full  of  nerve  and  endurance,  for  it  required  a  man  of 
nerve  to  handle  eight  frisky  mules  through  the  rugged 
passes  of  the  mountains,  when  the  snow  was  drifted  in 
immense  masses,  or  when  descending  the  curved,  icy  de- 
clivities to  the  base  of  the  range.  A  cool  head  was  highly 
necessary ;  but  frequently  accidents  occurred  and  some- 
times were  serious  in  their  results. 

A  snowstorm  in  the  mountains  was  a  terrible  thing 
to  encounter  by  the  coach ;  all  that  could  be  done  was 
to  wait  until  it  had  abated,  as  there  was  no  going  on 
in  the  face  of  the  blinding  sheets  of  intensely  cold  vapour 
which  the  wind  hurled  against  the  sides  of  the  mountains. 
All  inside  of  the  coach  had  to  sit  still  and  shake  with 
the  freezing  branches  of  the  tall  trees  around  them.  A 
summer  hailstorm  was  much  more  to  be  dreaded,  how- 
ever ;  for  nowhere  else  on  the  earth  do  the  hailstones  shoot 
from  the  clouds  of  greater  size  or  with  greater  velocity 
than  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Such  an  event  invariably 
frightened  the  mules  and  caused  them  to  stampede  ;  and, 
to  escape  death  from  the  coach  rolling  down  some  fright- 
ful abyss,  one  had  to  jump  out,  only  to  be  beaten  to  a  jelly 
by  the  masses  of  ice  unless  shelter  could  be  found  under 
some  friendly  ledge  of  rock  or  the  thick  limbs  of  a  tree. 

Nothing  is  more  fatiguing  than  travelling  for  the  first 
day  and  night  in  a  stage-coach  ;  after  that,  however,  one 
gets  used  to  it  and  the  remainder  of  the  journey  is  rela- 
tively comfortable. 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  151 

The  only  way  to  alleviate  the  monotony  of  riding  hour 
after  hour  was  to  walk ;  occasionally  this  was  rendered 
absolutely  necessary  by  some  accident,  such  as  breaking 
a  wheel  or  axle,  or  when  an  animal  gave  out  before  a 
station  was  reached.  In  such  cases,  however,  no  deduc- 
tion was  made  from  the  fare,  that  having  been  collected  in 
advance,  so  it  cost  you  just  as  much  whether  you  rode  or 
walked.  You  could  exercise  your  will  in  the  matter,  but 
you  must  not  lag  behind  the  coach ;  the  savages  were 
always  watching  for  such  derelicts,  and  your  hair  was  the 
forfeit ! 

In  the  worst  years,  when  the  Indians  were  most  de- 
cidedly on  the  war-trail,  the  government  furnished  an 
escort  of  soldiers  from  the  military  posts  ;  they  generally 
rode  in  a  six-mule  army-wagon,  and  were  commanded  by 
a  sergeant  or  corporal ;  but  in  the  early  days,  before  the 
ami}'  had  concentrated  at  the  various  forts  on  the  great 
plains,  the  stage  had  to  rely  on  the  courage  and  fighting 
qualities  of  its  occupants,  and  the  nerve  and  the  good 
judgment  of  the  driver.  If  the  latter  understood  his 
duty  thoroughly  and  was  familiar  with  the  methods  of 
the  savages,  he  always  chose  the  cover  of  darkness  in 
which  to  travel  in  localities  where  the  danger  from  In- 
dians was  greater  than  elsewhere  ;  for  it  is  a  rare  thing  in 
savage  warfare  to  attack  at  night.  The  early  morning 
seemed  to  be  their  favourite  hour,  when  sleep  oppresses 
most  heavily  ;  and  then  it  was  that  the  utmost  vigilance 
was  demanded. 

One  of  the  most  confusing  things  to  the  novice  riding 
over  the  great  plains  is  the  idea  of  distance  ;  mile  after 
mile  is  travelled  on  the  monotonous  trail,  with  a  range  of 
hills  or  a  low  divide  in  full  sight,  yet  hours  roll  by  and 
the  objects  seem  no  nearer  than  when  they  were  first  ob- 
served. The  reason  for  this  seems  to  be  that  every  atom 
of  vapour  is  eliminated  from  the  air,  leaving  such  an  abso- 


152  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAEL 

lute  clearness  of  atmosphere,  such  an  indescribable  trans- 
parency of  space  through  which  distant  objects  are  seen, 
that  they  are  magnified  and  look  nearer  than  they  really 
are.  Consequently,  the  usual  method  of  calculating  dis- 
tance and  areas  by  the  eye  is  ever  at  fault  until  custom 
and  familiarity  force  a  new  standard  of  measure. 

Mirages,  too,  were  of  frequent  occurrence  on  the  great 
plains  ;  some  of  them  wonderful  examples  of  the  refract- 
ing properties  of  light.  They  assumed  all  manner  of 
fantastic,  curious  shapes,  sometimes  ludicrously  distorting 
the  landscape  ;  objects,  like  a  herd  of  buffalo  for  instance, 
though  forty  miles  away,  would  seem  to  be  high  in  air, 
often  reversed,  and  immensely  magnified  in  their  propor- 
tions. 

Violent  storms  were  also  frequent  incidents  of  the  long 
ride.  I  well  remember  one  night,  about  thirty  years  ago, 
when  the  coach  in  which  I  and  one  of  my  clerks  were 
riding  to  Fort  Dodge  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  standstill 
by  a  terrible  gale  of  wind  and  hail.  The  mules  refused 
to  face  it,  and  quickly  turning  around  nearly  overturned 
the  stage,  while  we,  with  the  driver  and  conductor,  were 
obliged  to  hold  on  to  the  wheels  with  all  our  combined 
strength  to  prevent  it  from  blowing  down  into  a  stony 
ravine,  on  the  brink  of  which  we  were  brought  to  a  halt. 
Fortunatety,  these  fearful  blizzards  did  not  last  very  long  ; 
the  wind  ceased  blowing  so  violently  in  a  few  moments, 
but  the  rain  usually  continued  until  morning. 

It  usually  happened  that  you  either  at  once  took  a  great 
liking  for  your  driver  and  conductor,  or  the  reverse. 
Once,  on  a  trip  from  Kansas  City,  nearly  a  third  of  a  cen- 
tury ago,  when  I  and  another  man  were  the  only  occupants 
of  the  coach,  we  entertained  quite  a  friendly  feeling  for 
our  driver ;  he  was  a  good-natured,  jolly  fellow,  full  of 
anecdote  and  stories  of  the  Trail,  over  which  he  had  made 
more  than  a  hundred  sometimes  adventurous  journeys. 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  153 

When  we  arrived  at  the  station  at  Plum  Creek,  the  coach 
was  a  little  ahead  of  time,  and  the  driver  who  was  there 
to  relieve  ours  commenced  to  grumhle  at  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing to  start  out  before  the  regular  hour.  He  found  fault 
because  we  had  come  into  the  station  so  soon,  and  swore 
he  could  drive  where  our  man  could  not  "  drag  a  halter- 
chain,"  as  he  claimed  in  his  boasting.  We  at  once  took  a 
dislike  to  him,  and  secretly  wished  that  he  would  come  to 
grief,  in  order  to  cure  him  of  his  boasting.  Sure  enough, 
before  we  had  gone  half  a  mile  from  the  station  he  incon- 
tinently tumbled  the  coach  over  into  a  sandy  arroya,  and 
we  were  delighted  at  the  accident.  Finding  ourselves 
free  from  any  injury,  we  went  to  work  and  assisted  him 
to  right  the  coach  —  no  small  task  ;  but  we  took  great  de- 
light in  reminding  him  several  times  of  his  ability  to 
drive  where  our  old  friend  could  not  "  drag  a  halter- 
chain."  It  was  very  dark;  neither  moon  or  star  visible, 
the  whole  heavens  covered  with  an  inky  blackness  of  omi- 
nous clouds  ;   so  he  was  not  so  much  to  be"  blamed  after  all. 

The  very  next  coach  was  attacked  at  the  crossing  of 
Cow  Creek  by  a  band  of  Kiowas.  The  savages  had  fol- 
lowed the  stage  all  that  afternoon,  but  remained  out  of 
sight  until  just  at  dark,  when  they  rushed  over  the  low 
divide,  and  mounted  on  their  ponies  commenced  to  circle 
around  the  coach,  making  the  sand  dunes  resound  with 
echoes  of  their  infernal  yelling,  and  shaking  their  buffalo- 
robes  to  stampede  the  mules,  at  the  same  time  firing  their 
guns  at  the  men  who  were  in  the  coach,  all  of  whom  made 
a  bold  stand,  but  were  rapidly  getting  the  worst  of  it, 
when  fortunately  a  company  of  United  States  cavalry 
came  over  the  Trail  from  the  west,  and  drove  the  savages 
off.  Two  of  the  men  in  the  coach  were  seriously  wounded, 
and  one  of  the  soldiers  killed ;  but  the  Indian  loss  was 
never  determined,  as  they  succeeded  in  carrying  off  both 
their  dead  and  wounded. 


154  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Mr.  W.  H.  Ryus,  a  friend  of  mine  now  residing  in  Kan- 
sas City,  who  was  a  driver  and  messenger  thirty-live  years, 
and  had  many  adventures,  told  me  the  following  incidents  : 
"  I  have  crossed  the  plains  sixty-five  times  by  wagon  and 
coach.  In  July,  1861,  I  was  employed  by  Barnum, 
Vickery,  and  Neal  to  drive  over  what  was  known  as  the 
Long  Route,  that  is,  from  Fort  Larned  to  Fort  Lyon,  two 
hundred  and  forty  miles,  with  no  station  between.  We 
drove  one  set  of  mules  the  whole  distance,  camped  out, 
and  made  the  journey,  in  good  weather,  in  four  or  five 
days.  In  winter  we  generally  encountered  a  great  deal 
of  snow,  and  very  cold  air  on  the  bleak  and  wind-swept 
desert  of  the  Upper  Arkansas,  but  we  employees  got 
used  to  that ;  only  the  passengers  did  any  kicking.  We 
had  a  way  of  managing  them,  however,  when  they  got 
very  obstreperous ;  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  yell  Indians ! 
and  that  quieted  them  quicker  than  forty-rod  whiskey 
does  a  man. 

"  We  gathered  buffalo-chips,  to  boil  our  coffee  and 
cook  our  buffalo  and  antelope  steak,  smoked  for  a^while 
around  the  smouldering  fire  until  the  animals  were 
through  grazing,  and  then  started  on  our  lonely  way 
again. 

"  Sometimes  the  coach  would  travel  for  a  hundred  miles 
through  the  buffalo  herds,  never  for  a  moment  getting 
out  of  sight  of  them  ;  often  we  saw  fifty  thousand  to  a 
hundred  thousand  on  a  single  journey  out  or  in.  The 
Indians  used  to  call  them  their  cattle,  and  claimed  to 
own  them.  They  did  not,  like  the  white  man,  take  out 
only  the  tongue,  or  hump,  and  leave  all  the  rest  to  dry 
upon  the  prairie,  but  ate  every  last  morsel,  even  to  the 
intestines.  They  said  the  whites  were  welcome  to  all 
they  could  eat  or  haul  away,  but  they  did  not  like  to  see  so 
much  meat  wasted  as  was  our  custom. 

"  The  Indians  on  the  plains  were  not  at  all  hostile  in 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  155 

1861-62  ;  we  could  drive  into  their  villages,  where  there 
were  tens  of  thousands  of  them,  and  they  would  always 
treat  us  to  music  or  a  war-dance,  and  set  before  us  the 
choicest  of  their  venison  and  buffalo.  In  July  of  the  last- 
mentioned  year,  Colonel  Leavenworth,  Jr.,  was  crossing 
the  Trail  in  my  coach.  He  desired  to  see  Satanta,  the 
great  Kiowa  chief.  The  colonel's  father 1  was  among  the 
Indians  a  great  deal  while  on  duty  as  an  army  officer, 
while  the  young  colonel  was  a  small  boy.  The  colonel 
said  he  didn't  believe  that  old  Satanta  would  know  him. 

"  Just  before  the  arrival  of  the  coach  in  the  region  of 
the  Indian  village,  the  Comanches  and  the  Pawnees  had 
been  having  a  battle.  The  Comanches  had  taken  some 
scalps,  and  they  were  camping  on  the  bank  of  the  Ar- 
kansas River,  where  Dodge  City  is  now  located.  The 
Pawnees  had  killed  five  of  their  warriors,  and  the  Co- 
manches were  engaged  in  an  exciting  war-dance  ;  I  think 
there  were  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  Indians  gath- 
ered there,  men,  women,  and  children  of  the  several  tribes, 
—  Comanches,  Kiowas,  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  and  others. 

"  When  we  came  in  sight  of  their  camp,  the  colonel 
knew,  by  the  terrible  noise  they  were  making,  that  a  war- 
dance  was  going  on  ;  but  we  did  not  know  then  whether 
it  was  on  account  of  troubles  among  themselves,  or  because 
of  a  fight  with  the  whites,  but  we  were  determined  to 
find  out.  If  he  could  get  to  the  old  chief,  all  would  be 
right.  So  he  and  I  started  for  the  place  whence  the  noise 
came.  We  met  a  savage  and  the  colonel  asked  him 
whether  Satanta  was  there,  and  what  was  going  on. 
When  he  told  us  that  they  had  had  a  fight  and  it  was 
a  scalp-dance,  our  hair  lowered  ;  for  we  knew  that  if  it 
was  in  consequence  of  trouble  with  the  whites,  we  stood 
in  some  danger  of  losing  our  own  scalps. 

1  Colonel  Leavenworth,  for  whom  Fort  Leavenworth  is  named,  and 
who  built  several  army  posts  in  the  far  West. 


156  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

"  The  Indian  took  us  in,  and  the  situation,  too  ;  and 
conducted  us  into  the  presence  of  Satanta,  who  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  great  circle,  facing  the  dancers.  It 
was  out  on  an  island  in  the  stream  ;  the  chief  stood  very 
erect,  and  eyed  us  closely  for  a  few  seconds,  then  the  colo- 
nel told  his  own  name  that  the  Indians  had  known  him  by 
when  he  was  a  hoy.  Satanta  gave  one  bound,  —  he  was 
at  least  ten  feet  from  where  we  were  waiting,  —  grasped 
the  colonel's  hand  and  excitedly  kissed  him,  then  stood 
back  for  another  instant,  gave  him  a  second  squeeze, 
offered  his  hand  to  me,  which  I,  of  course,  shook  heartily, 
then  he  gazed  at  the  man  he  had  known  as  a  boy  so  many 
years  ago,  with  a  countenance  beaming  with  delight.  I 
never  saw  any  one,  even  among  the  white  race,  manifest 
so  much  joy  as  the  old  chief  did  over  the  visit  of  the 
colonel  to  his  camp. 

"He  immediately  ordered  some  of  his  }roung  men  to  go 
out  and  herd  our  mules  through  the  night,  which  they 
brought  back  to  us  at  daylight.  He  then  had  the  coach 
hauled  to  the  front  of  his  lodge,  where  we  could  see  all 
that  was  going  on  to  the  best  advantage.  We  had  six 
travellers  with  us  on  this  journey,  and  it  was  a  great  sight 
for  the  tenderfeet. 

"  It  was.  about  ten  o'clock  at  night  when  we  arrived 
at  Satanta's  lodge,  and  we  saw  thousands  of  squaws  and 
bucks  dancing  and  mourning  for  their  dead  warriors.  At 
midnight  the  old  chief  said  we  must  eat  something  at  once. 
So  he  ordered  a  fire  built,  cooked  buffalo  and  venison,  set- 
ting before  us  the  very  best  that  he  had,  we  furnishing 
canned  fruit,  coffee,  and  sugar  from  our  coach  mess. 
There  we  sat,  and  talked  and  ate  until  morning ;  then 
when  we  were  ready  to  start  off,  Satanta  and  the  other 
chiefs  of  the  various  tribes  escorted  us  about  eight  miles 
on  the  Trail,  where  we  halted  for  breakfast,  they  remaining 
and  eatinsr  with  us." 


FIRST   OVERLAND   MAIL  157 

Colonel  Leavenworth  was  on  his  way  to  assume  com- 
mand of  one  of  the  military  posts  in  New  Mexico ;  the 
Indians  begged  him  to  come  back  and  take  his  quarters 
at  either  Fort  Larned  or  Fort  Dodge.  They  told  him 
they  were  afraid  their  agent  was  stealing  their  goods 
and  selling  them  back  to  them ;  while  if  the  Indians  took 
anything  from  the  whites,  a  war  was  started. 

Colonel  A.  G.  Boone  had  made  a  treaty  with  these 
same  'Indians  in  1860,  and  it  was  agreed  that  he  should 
be  their  agent.  It  was  done,  and  the  entire  savage  nations 
were  restful  and  kindly  disposed  toward  the  whites  during 
his  administration  ;  any  one  could  then  cross  the  plains 
without  fear  of  molestation.  In  1861,  however,  Judge 
Wright,  of  Indiana,  who  was  a  member  of  Congress  at 
the  time,  charged  Colonel  Boone  with  disloyalty.1  He 
succeeded  in  having  him  removed. 

Majors  Russel  and  Waddell,  the  great  government 
freight  contractors  across  the  plains,  gave  Colonel  Boone 
fourteen  hundred  acres  of  land,  well  improved,  with  some 
fine  buildings  on  it,  about  fifteen  miles  east  of  Pueblo, 
Colorado.  It  was  christened  Booneville,  and  the  colonel 
moved  there.  In  the  fall  of  1862,  fifty  influential  In- 
dians of  the  various  tribes  visited  Colonel  Boone  at  his 
new  home,  and  begged  that  he  would  come  back  to  them 
and  be  their  agent.  He  told  the  chiefs  that  the  President 
of  the  United  States  would  not  let  him.  Then  they  offered 
to  sell  their  horses  to  raise  money  for  him  to  go  to  Wash- 
ington to  tell  the  Great  Father  what  their  agent  was 
doing ;   and  to  have  him  removed,  or  there  was  going  to  be 

1  Colonel  A.  G.  Boone,  a  grandson  of  the  immortal  Daniel,  was  one  of 
the  grandest  old  mountaineers  I  ever  knew.  He  was  as  loyal  as  anybody, 
but  honest  in  his  dealings  with  the  Indians,  and  that  was  often  a  fault  in 
the  eyes  of  those  at  Washington  who  controlled  these  agents.  Kit  Car- 
son was  of  the  same  honest  class  as  Boone,  and  he,  too,  was  removed  for 
the  same  cause. 


158  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

trouble.  The  Indians  told  Colonel  Boone  that  many  of 
their  warriors  would  be  on  the  plains  that  fall,  and  they 
were  declaring  they  had  as  much  right  to  take  something 
to  eat  from  the  trains  as  their  agent  had  to  steal  goods 
from  them. 

Early  in  the  winter  of  the  next  year,  a  small  caravan  of 
eight  or  ten  wagons  travelling  to  the  Missouri  River  was 
overhauled  at  Nine  Mile  Ridge,  about  fifty  miles  west  of 
Fort  Dodge,  by  a  band  of  Indians,  who  asked  for  some- 
thing to  eat.  The  teamsters,  thinking  them  to  be  hostile, 
believed  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  kill  one  of  them  any- 
how; so  they  shot  an  inoffensive  warrior,  after  which  the 
train  moved  on  to  its  camp  and  the  trouble  began.  Every 
man  in  the  whole  outfit,  with  the  exception  of  one  teamster, 
who  luckily  got  to  the  Arkansas  River  and  hid,  was  mur- 
dered, the  animals  all  carried  away,  and  the  wagons  and 
contents  destroyed  by  fire. 

This  foolish  act  by  the  master  of  the  caravan  was  the 
cause  of  a  long  war,  causing  hundreds  of  atrocious  mur- 
ders and  the  destruction  of  a  great  deal  of  pro}jerty  along 
the  whole  Western  frontier. 

That  fall,  1863,  Mr.  Ryus  was  the  messenger  or  conductor 
in  charge  of  the  coach  running  from  Kansas  City  to  Santa 
Fe.  He  said  :  "  It  then  required  a  month  to  make  the 
round  trip,  about  eighteen  hundred  miles.  On  account  of 
the  Indian  war  we  had  to  have  an  escort  of  soldiers  to  go 
through  the  most  dangerous  portions  of  the  Trail ;  and 
the  caravans  all  joined  forces  for  mutual  safety,  besides 
having  an  escort. 

"  My  coach  was  attacked  several  times  during  that 
season,  and  we  had  many  close  calls  for  our  scalps.  Some- 
times the  Indians  would  follow  us  for  miles,  and  we  had 
to  halt  and  fight  them;  but  as  for  myself,  I  had  no  desire 
to  kill  one  of  the  miserable,  outraged  creatures,  who  had 
been  swindled  out  of  their  iust  rig-hts. 


FIRST  OVERLAND   MAIL 


159 


"  I  know  of  but  one  occasion  when  we  were  engaged 
in  a  fight  with  them  when  our  escort  killed  any  of  the 
attacking  savages  ;  it  was  about  two  miles  from  Little 
Coon  Creek  Station,  where  they  surrounded  the  coach 
and  commenced  hostilities.  In  the  fight  one  officer  and 
one  enlisted  man  were  wounded.  The  escort  chased  the 
band  for  several  miles,  killed  nine  of  them,  and  got  their 
horses." 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    TRAGEDY    IN    THE    CANON    OF    THE    CANADIAN DRAGOONS 

FOLLOW    THE    TRAIL    OF    THE    SAVAGES KIT    CARSON,    DICK 

WOOTON,    AND    TOM    TOBLN   THE    SCOUTS    OF    THE    EXPEDITION 

MORE     THAN     A      HUNDRED     OF      THE     SAVAGES     KILLED  

MURDER      OF       MRS.      WHITE WHITE      WOLF  LIEUTENANT 

BELL'S      SINGULAR     DUEL     WITH     THE     NOTED     SAVAGE OLD 

WOLF SATANK  —  MURDER    OF. PEACOCK SATANTA    MADE 

CHIEF  KICKING     BIRD  HIS     TRAGIC     DEATH  —  CHARLES 

BENT,   THE    HALF-BREED    RENEGADE HIS    TERRIBLE    ACTS 

HIS    DEATH 


LMOST  immediately 
after  the  ratification  of 
the  purchase  of  New 
Mexico  by  the  United 
States  under  the  stipula- 
tions of  the  "  Guadalupe- 
Hidalgo  Treaty,"  the 
;  Utes,  one  of  the  most  power- 
%'  ful  tribes  of  mountain  Indi- 
Jv;  ans,  inaugurated  a  bloody  and 
relentless  war  against  the  civ- 
ilized inhabitants  of  the  Ter- 
ritory. It  was  accompanied  by 
all  the  horrible  atrocities  which 
mark  the  tactics  of  savage  hatred 
toward  the  white  race.  It  continued  for 
several  years  with  more  or  less  severity  ;  its  record  a 
chapter  of  history  whose  pages  are  deluged  with  blood, 
until  finally  the  Indians  were  subdued  by  the  power  of 

the  military. 

160 


CHARLES   BENT  161 

Along  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  they  were  fre- 
quently in  conjunction  with  the  Apaches,  and  their  depre- 
dations and  atrocities  were  very  numerous  ;  they  attacked 
fearlessly  freight  caravans,  private  expeditions,  and  over- 
land stage-coaches,  robbing  and  murdering  indiscrimi- 
nately. 

In  January,  1847,  the  mail  and  passenger  stage  left 
Independence,  Missouri,  for  Santa  F6"  on  one  of  its 
regular  trips  across  the  plains.  It  had  its  full  comple- 
ment of  passengers,  among  whom  were  a  Mr.  White  and 
family,  consisting  of  his  wife,  one  child,  and  a  coloured 
nurse. 

Day  after  day  the  lumbering  Concord  coach  rolled  on, 
with  nothing  to  disturb  the  monotony  of  the  vast  prairies, 
until  it  had  left  them  far  behind  and  crossed  the  Range 
into  New  Mexico.  Just  about  dawn,  as  the  unsuspecting 
travellers  were  entering  the  "  canon  of  the  Canadian,"  J 
and  probably  waking  up  from  their  long  night's  sleep,  a 
band  of  Indians,  with  blood-curdling  yells  and  their  terrific 
war-whoop,  rode  down  upon  them. 

In  that  lonely  and  rock-sheltered  gorge  a  party  of  the 
hostile  savages,  led  by  "  White  Wolf,"  a  chief  of  the 
Apaches,  had  been  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  coach  from 
the  East  ;  the  very  hour  it  was  due  was  well  known  to 
them,  and  they  had  secreted  themselves  there  the  night 
before  so  as  to  be  on  hand  should  it  reach  their  chosen 
ambush  a  little  before  the  schedule  time. 

Out  dashed  the  savages,  gorgeous  in  their  feathered 
war-bonnets,  but  looking  like  fiends  with  their  paint- 
bedaubed    faces.        Stopping  the  frightened  mules,  they 

1 A  narrow  defile  on  the  Trail,  about  ninety  miles  east  of  Fort  Union. 
It  is  called  the  "canon  of  the  Canadian,  or  Red,  River,"  and  is  situated 
between  high  walls  of  earth  and  rock.  It  was  once  a  very  dangerous 
spot  on  account  of  the  ease  and  rapidity  with  which  the  savages  could 
ambush  themselves. 


162  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TKAIL 

pulled  open  the  doors  of  the  coach  and,  mercilessly  drag- 
ging its  helpless  and  surprised  inmates  to  the  ground, 
immediately  began  their  butchery.  They  scalped  and 
mutilated  the  dead  bodies  of  their  victims  in  their  usual 
sickening  manner,  not  a  single  individual  escaping,  appar- 
ently, to  tell  of  their  fiendish  acts. 

If  the  Indians  had  been  possessed  of  sufficient  cunning 
to  cover  up  the  tracks  of  their  horrible  atrocities,  as 
probably  white  robbers  would  have  done,  by  dragging  the 
coach  from  the  road  and  destroying  it  by  fire  or  other 
means,  the  story  of  the  murders  committed  in  the  deep 
canon  might  never  have  been  known ;  but  they  left  the 
tell-tale  remains  of  the  dismantled  vehicle  just  where  they 
had  attacked  it,  and  the  naked  corpses  of  its  passengers 
where  they  had  been  ruthlessly  killed. 

At  the  next  stage  station  the  employees  were  anxiously 
waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  and  wondering  what 
could  have  caused  the  delay;  for  it  was  due  there  at  noon 
on  the  day  of  the  massacre.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and 
at  last  they  began  to  suspect  that  something  serious  had 
occurred ;'  they  sat  up  all  through  the  night  listening  for 
the  familiar  rumbling  of  wheels,  but  still  no  stage.  At 
daylight  next  morning,  determined  to  wait  no  longer,  as 
they  felt  satisfied  that  something  out  of  the  usual  course 
had  happened,  a  party  hurriedly  mounted  their  horses 
and  rode  down  the  broad  trail  leading  to  the  canon. 

Upon  entering  its  gloomy  mouth  after  a  quick  lope  of 
an  hour,  they  discovered  the  ghastly  remains  of  twelve 
mutilated  bodies.  These  were  gathered  up  and  buried  in 
one  grave,  on  the  top  of  the  bluff  overlooking  the  narrow 
gorge. 

They  could  not  be  sure  of  the  number  of  passengers 
the  coach  had  brought  until  the  arrival  of  the  next,  as  it 
would  have  a  list  of  those  carried  by  its  predecessor ;  but 
it   would  not  be  due  for  several   days.     They   naturally 


CHARLES    BENT  163 

supposed,  however,  that  the  twelve  dead  lying  on   the 
ground  were  its  full  complement. 

Not  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  next  stage,  they 
despatched  a  messenger  to  the  last  station  east  that  the 
one  whose  occupants  had  been  murdered  had  passed,  and 
there  learned  the  exact  number  of  passengers  it  had  con- 
tained. Now  they  knew  that  Mrs.  White,  her  child,  and 
the  coloured  nurse  had  been  carried  off  into  a  captivity 
worse  than  death  ;  for  no  remains  of  a  woman  were  found 
with  the  others  lying  in  the  canon. 

The  terrible  news  of  the  massacre  was  conveyed  to 
Taos,  where  were  stationed  several  companies  of  the 
Second  United  States  Dragoons,  commanded  by  Major 
William  Greer  ;  but  as  the  weather  had  grown  intensely 
cold  and  stormy  since  the  date  of  the  massacre,  it  took 
nearly  a  fortnight  for  the  terrible  story  to  reach  there. 
The  major  acted  promptly  when  appealed  to  to  go  after  . 
and  punish  the  savages  concerned  in  the  outrage,  but  sev- 
eral days  more  were  lost  in  getting  an  expedition  ready 
for  the  field.  It  was  still  stormy  while  the  command  was 
preparing  for  its  work;  but  at  last,  one  bright  morning, 
in  a  piercing  cold  wind,  five  troops  of  the  dragoons,  com- 
manded by  Major  Greer  in  person,  left  their  comfortable 
quarters  to  attempt  the  rescue  of  Mrs.  White,  her  child, 
and  nurse. 

Kit  Carson,  "  Uncle  Dick "  Wooton,  Joaquin  Leroux, 
and  Tom  Tobin  were  the  principal  scouts  and  guides 
accompanjdng  the  exj)edition.  having  volunteered  their 
services  to  Major  Greer,  which  he  had  gladly  accepted. 

The  massacre  having  occurred  three  weeks  before  the 
command  arrived  at  the  canon  of  the  Canadian,  and 
snow  having  fallen  almost  continuously  ever  since,  the 
ground  was  deeply  covered,  making  it  almost  impossible 
to  find  the  trail  of  the  savages  leading  out  of  the  gorge. 
No   one   knew  where   they  had  established   their   winter 


164  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

camp,  i —  probably  hundreds  of  miles  distant  on  some  trib- 
utary of  the  Canadian  far  to  the  south. 

Carson,  Wooton,  and  Leroux,  after  scanning  the  ground 
carefully  at  every  point,  though  the  snow  was  ten  inches 
deep,  in  a  way  of  which  only  men  versed  in  savage  lore 
are  capable,  were  rewarded  by  discovering  certain  signs, 
unintelligible  to  the  ordinary  individual,1 —  that  the  mur- 
derers had  gone  south  out  of  the  cation  immediately  after 
completing  their  bloody  work,  and  that  their  camp  was 
somewhere  on  the  river,  but  how  far  off  none  could  tell. 

The  command  followed  up  the  trail  discovered  by  the 
scouts  for  nearly  four  hundred  miles.  Early  one  morning 
when  that  distance  had  been  rounded,  and  just  as  the 
men  were  about  to  break  camp  preparatory  to  the  day's 
march,  Carson  went  out  on  a  little  reconnoissance  on  his 
own  account,  as  he  had  noticed  a  flock  of  ravens  hovering 
in  the  air  when  he  first  got  out  of  his  blankets  at  dawn, 
which  was  sufficient  indication  to  him  that  an  Indian 
camp  was  located  somewhere  in  the  vicinity ;  for  that 
ominous  bird  is  always  to  be  found  in  the  region  where 
the  savages  take  up  an  abode,  feeding  upon  the  carcasses 
of  the  many  varieties  of  game  killed  for  food.  He  had 
not  proceeded  more  than  half  a  mile  from  the  camp  when 
he  discovered  two  Indians  slowly  riding  over  a  low 
"  divide,"  driving  a  herd  of  ponies  before  them.  The 
famous  scout  was  then  certain  their  village  could  not 
be  very  far  away.  The  savages  did  not  observe  him, 
as  he  took  good  care  they  should  not;  so  he  returned 
quickly  to  where  Major  Greer  was  standing  by  his  camp- 

1  Carson,  Wooton,  and  all  other  expert  mountaineers,  when  following 
a  trail,  could  always  tell  just  what  time  had  elapsed  since  it  was  made. 
This  may  seem  strange  to  the  uninitiated,  but  it  was  part  of  their  neces- 
sary education.  They  could  tell  what  kind  of  a  track  it  was,  which  way 
the  person  or  animal  had  walked,  and  even  the  tribe  to  which  the  savage 
belonged,  either  by  the  shape  of  the  moccasin  or  the  arrows  which  were 
occasionally  dropped. 


CHARLES  BENT  165 

fire  and  reported  the  presence  of  a  village  very  close  at 
hand. 

The  Major  having  sent  for  Tom  Tobin  and  Uncle  Dick 
Wooton,  requested  them  to  go  and  find  the  exact  location 
of  the  savages.  These  scouts  came  back  in  less  than  half 
an  hour,  and  reported  a  large  number  of  teepees  in  a  thick 
grove  of  timber  a  mile  away. 

It  was  at  once  determined  to  surprise  the  savages  in 
their  winter  quarters  by  charging  right  among  their 
lodges  without  allowing  them  time  to  mount  their  ponies, 
as  the  gallant  Custer  rode,  at  the  head  of  his  famous 
troopers  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry,  into  the  camp  of  the 
celebrated  chief  "Black  Kettle"  on  the  Washita,  in  the 
dawn  of  a  cold  November  morning  twenty  years  after- 
ward. 

The  command  succeeded  in  getting  within  good  charg- 
ing distance  of  the  village  without  its  occupants  having 
any  knowledge  of  its  proximity  ;  but  at  this  moment 
Major  Greer  was  seized  with  an  idea  that  he  ought  to 
have  a  parley  with  the  Indians  before  he  commenced  to 
fight  them,  and  for  that  purpose  he  ordered  a  halt,  just  as 
the  soldiers  were  eager  for  the  sound  of  the  "  Charge  !  " 

Never  were  a  body  of  men  more  enraged.  Carson  gave 
vent  to  his  wrath  in  a  series  of  elaborately  carved  English 
oaths,  for  which  he  was  noted  when  young  ;  Leroux,  whose 
naturally  hot  blood  was  roused,  swore  at  the  Major  in  a 
curious  mixture  of  bad  French  and  worse  mountain  dia- 
lect, and  it  appeared  as  if  the  battle  would  begin  in  the 
ranks  of  the  troops  instead  of  those  of  the"  savages ;  for 
never  was  a  body  of  soldiers  so  disgusted  at  the  act  of 
any  commanding  officer. 

This  delay  gave  the  Indians,  who  could  be  seen  dodging 
about  among  their  lodges  and  preparing  for  a  fight  that 
was  no  longer  a  surprise,  time  to  hide  their  women  and 
children,   mount  their  ponies,   and  get   down    into   deep 


166  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

ravines,  where  the  soldiers  could  not  follow  them.  While 
the  Major  was  trying  to  convince  his  subordinates  that 
his  course  was  the  proper  one,  the  Indians  opened  fire 
without  any  parley,  and  it  happened  that  at  the  first  volley 
a  bullet  struck  him  in  the  breast,  but  a  suspender  buckle 
deflected  its  course  and  he  Avas  not  seriously  wounded. 

The  change  in  the  countenance  of  their  commanding 
officer  caused  by  the  momentary  pain  was  just  the  incen- 
tive the  troopers  wanted,  and  without  waiting  for  the 
sound  of  the  trumpet,  they  spurred  their  horses,  dashed 
in,  and  charged  the  thunderstruck  savages  with  the 
shock  of  a  tornado. 

In  two  successful  charges  of  the  gallant  and  impatient 
troopers  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  Indians  were  killed 
and  wounded,  but  the  time  lost  had  permitted  many  to 
escape,  and  the  pursuit  of  the  stragglers  would  have  been 
unavailing  under  the  circumstances  ;  so  the  command 
turned  back  and  returned  to  Taos.  In  the  village  was 
found  the  body  of  Mrs.  White  still  warm,  with  three 
arrows  in  her  breast.  Had  the  charge  been  made  as  origi- 
nally expected  by  the  troopers,  her  life  would  have  been 
saved.  No  trace  of  the  child  or  of  the  coloured  nurse  was 
ever  discovered,  and  it  is  probable  that  they  were  both 
killed  while  en  route  from  the  canon  to  the  village,  as 
being  valueless  to  keep  either  as  slaves  or  for  other  pur- 
poses. 

The  fate  of  the  Apache  chief,  "  White  Wolf,"  who  was 
the  leader  in  the  outrages  in  the  canon  of  the  Canadian, 
was  fitting  for  his  devilish  deeds.  It  was  Lieutenant 
David  Bell's  fortune  to  avenge  the  murder  of  Mrs.  White 
and  her  family,  and  in  an  extraordinary  manner.1  The 
action  was  really  dramatic,  or  romantic  ;  he  was  on  a  scout 
with  his  company,  which  was  stationed  at  Fort  Union,  New 

1  Lieutenant  Bell  belonged  to  the  Second  Dragoons.    He  was  conspicu- 
%  ous  in  extraordinary  marches  and  in  action,  and  also  an  accomplished 


CHAKLES  BENT  167 

Mexico,  having  about  thirty  men  with  him,  and  when  near 
the  canon  of  the  Canadian  they  met  about  the  same  num- 
ber of  Indians.  A  parley  was  in  order  at  once,  probably 
desired  by  the  savages,  who  were  confronted  with  an 
equal  number  of  troopers.  Bell  had  assigned  the  baggage- 
mules  to  the  care  of  five  or  six  of  his  command,  and  held 
a,  mounted  interview  with  the  chief,  who  was  no  other 
than  the  infamous  White  Wolf  of  the  Jicarilla  Apaches. 
As  Bell  approached,  White  Wolf  was  standing  in  front 
of  his  Indians,  who  were  on  foot,  all  well  armed  and  in 
perfect  line.  Bell  was  in  advance  of  his  troopers,  who 
were  about  twenty  paces  from  the  Indians,  exactly  equal 
in  number  and  extent  of  line  ;  both  parties  were  prepared 
to  use  firearms. 

The  parley  was  almost  tediously  long  and  the  impend- 
ing duel  was  arranged,  White  Wolf  being  very  bold  and 
defiant. 

At  last  the  leaders  exchanged  shots,  the  chief  sinking 
on  one  knee  and  aiming  his  gun,  Bell  throwing  his  body 
forward  and  making  his  horse  rear.  Both  lines,  by  com- 
mand, fired,  following  the  example  of  their  superiors,  the 
troopers,  however,  spurring  forward  over  their  enemies. 
The  warriors,  or  nearly  all  of  them,  threw  themselves  on 
the  ground,  and  several  vertical  wounds  were  received  by 
horse  and  rider.  The  dragoons  turned  short  about,  and 
again  charged  through  and  over  their  enemies,  the  fire 
being  continuous.  As  they  turned  for  a  third  charge,  the 
surviving  Indians  were  seen  escaping  to  a  deep  ravine, 
which,  although  only  one  or  two  hundred  paces  off,  had 
not  previously  been  noticed.  A  number  of  the  savages 
thus  escaped,  the  troopers  having  to  pull  up  at  the  brink, 
but  sending  a  volley  after  the  descending  fugitives. 

horseman  and  shot,  once  running  and  killing  five  buffalo  in  a  quarter  of  a 
mile.  He  died  early  in  1861,  and  his  death  was  a  great  loss  to  the  ser- 
vice. 


168  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

In  less  than  fifteen  minutes  twenty-one  of  the  forty-six 
actors  in  this  strange  combat  were  slain  or  disabled.  Bell 
was  not  hit,  but  four  or  five  of  his  men  were  killed  or 
wounded,  He  had  shot  White  Wolf  several  times,  and 
so  did  others  after  him  ;  but  so  tenacious  of  life  was  the 
Apache  that,  to  finish  him,  a  trooper  got  a  great  stone 
and  mashed  his  head. 

This  was  undoubtedly  the  greatest  duel  of  modern 
times  ;  certainly  nothing  like  it  ever  occurred  on  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail  before  or  since. 

The  war  chief  of  the  Kiowa  nation  in  the  early  '50's 
was  Satank,  a  most  unmitigated  villain  ;  cruel  and  heart- 
less as  any  savage  that  ever  robbed  a  stage-coach  or 
wrenched  off  the  hair  of  a  helpless  woman.  After  serving 
a  dozen  or  more  3rears  with  a  record  for  hellish  atrocities 
equalled  by  few  of  his  compeers,  he  was  deposed  for 
alleged  cowardice,  as  his  warriors  claimed,  under  the  fol- 
lowing circumstances  :  — 

The  village  of  his  tribe  was  established  in  the  large 
bottoms,  eight  miles  from  the  Great  Bend  of  the  Arkansas, 
and  about  the  same  distance  from  Fort  Zarah.1  All  the 
bucks  were  absent  on  a  hunting  expedition,  excepting 
Satank  and  a  few  superannuated  warriors.  The  troops 
were  out  from  Fort  Larned  on  a  grand  scout  after 
marauding  savages,  when  they  suddenly  came  across  the 
village  and  completely  took  the  Kiowas  by  surprise.  See- 
ing the  soldiers  almost  upon  them,  Satank  and  other 
warriors  jumped  on  their  ponies  and  made  good  their 
escape.  Had  they  remained,  all  of  them  would  have 
been  killed  or  at  least  captured ;  consequently  Satank, 
thinking  discretion  better  than  valour  at  that  particular 
juncture,  incontinently  fled.  His  warriors  in  council, 
however,  did  not  agree  with  him  ;  they  thought  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  have  remained  at  the  village  in  defence  of 
1  Known  to  this  day  as  "  The  Cheyenne  Bottoms." 


CHARLES  BENT  169 

the  women  and  children,  as  he  had  been  urged  to  refrain 
from  going  on  the  hunt  for  that  very  purpose. 

Some  time  before  Satanic  lost  his  office  of  chief,  there 
was  living  on  Cow  Creek,  in  a  rude  adobe  building,  a  man 
who  was  ostensibly  an  Indian  trader,  but  whose  traffic,  in 
reality,  consisted  in  selling  whiskey  to  the  Indians,  and 
consequently  the  United  States  troops  were  always  after 
him.  He  was  obliged  to  cache  his  liquor  in  every  con- 
ceivable manner  so  that  the  soldiers  should  not  discover 
it,  and,  of  course,  he  dreaded  the  incursions  of  the  troops 
much  more  than  he  did  raids  of  the  Indian  marauders 
that  were  constantly  on  the  Trail. 

Satank  and  this  illicit  trader,  whose  name  was  Peacock, 
were  great  chums.  One  day  while  they  were  indulging 
in  a  general  good  time  over  sundry  drinks  of  most  villan- 
ous  liquor,  Satank  said  to  Peacock  :  "  Peacock,  I  want 
you  to  write  me  a  letter ;  a  real  nice  one,  that  I  can  show 
to  the  wagon-bosses  on  the  Trail,  and  get  all  the  '  chuck ' 
I  want.  Tell  them  I  am  Satank,  the  great  chief  of  the 
Kiowas,  and  for  them  to  treat  me  the  best  they  know 
how." 

"  All  right,  Satank,"  said  Peacock  ;  "  I'll  do  so."  Pea- 
cock then  sat  down  and  wrote  the  following  epistle  :  — 

"The  bearer  of  this  is  Satank.  He  is  the  biggest  liar, 
beggar,  and  thief  on  the  plains.  What  he  can't  beg  of 
you,  he'll  steal.  Kick  him  out  of  camp,  for  he  is  a  lazy, 
good-for-nothing  Indian. " 

Satank  began  at  once  to  make  use  of  the  supposed  pre- 
cious document,  which  he  really  believed  would  assure 
him  the  dignified  treatment  and  courtesy  due  to  his 
exalted  rank.  He  presented  it  to  several  caravans  during 
the  ensuing  week,  and,  of  course,  received  a  very  cool 
reception  in  every  instance,  or  rather  a  very  warm  one. 

One  wagon-master,  in  fact,  black-snaked  him  out  of  his 
camp.      After  these  repeated    insults    he  sought  another 


170  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

white  friend,  and  told  of  his  grievances.  "  Look  here," 
said  Satank,  "  I  asked  Peacock  to  write  me  a  good  letter, 
and  he  gave  me  this  ;  but  I  don't  understand  it !  Every 
time  I  hand  it  to  a  wagon-boss,  he  gives  me  the  devil ! 
Read  it  to  me  and  tell  me  just  what  it  does  say." 

His  friend  read  it  over,  and  then  translated  it  literally 
to  Satank.  The  savage  assumed  a  countenance  of  extreme 
disgust,  and  after  musing  for  a  few  moments,  said  :  "  Well, 
I  understand  it  all  now.     All  right !  " 

The  next  morning  at  daylight,  Satank  called  for  some 
of  his  braves  and  with  them  rode  out  to  Peacock's  ranch. 
Arriving  there,  he  called  out  to  Peacock,  who  had  not  yet 
risen :  "  Peacock,  get  up,  the  soldiers  are  coming  !  "  It 
was  a  warning  which  the  illicit  trader  quickly  obeyed, 
and  running  out  of  the  building  with  his  field-glass  in  his 
hand,  he  started  for  his  lookout,  but  while  he  was  ascend- 
ing the  ladder  with  his  back  to  Satank  the  latter  shot 
him  full  of  holes,  saying,  as  he  did  so  :  "  There,  Peacock, 
I  guess  you  won't  write  any  more  letters." 

His  warriors  then  entered  the  building  and  killed  every 
man  in  it,  save  one  who  had  been  gored  by  a  buffalo 
bull  the  day  before,  and  who  was  lying  in  a  room  all  by 
himself.  He  was  saved  by  the  fact  that  the  Indian  has 
a  holy  dread  of  small-pox,  and  will  never  enter  an  apart- 
ment where  sick  men  lie,  fearing  they  may  have  the  awful 
disease. 

Satanta  (White  Bear)  was  the  most  efficient  and 
dreaded  chief  of  all  who  have  ever  been  at  the  head  of  the 
Kiowa  nation.  Ever  restlessly  active  in  ordering  or  con- 
ducting merciless  forays  against  an  exposed  frontier,  he 
was  the  very  incarnation  of  deviltry  in  his  determined 
hatred  of  the  whites,  and  his  constant  warfare  against 
civilization. 

He  also  possessed  wonderful  oratorical  powers  ;  he  could 
hurl  the  most  violent  invectives  at  those  whom  he  argued 


CHARLES   BENT  171 

with,  or  he  could  be  equally  pathetic  when  necessary.  He 
was  justly  called  "  The  Orator  of  the  Plains,"  rivalling 
the  historical  renown  of  Tecumseh  or  Pontiac. 

He  was  a  short,  bullet-headed  Indian,  full  of  courage 
and  well  versed  in  strategy.  Ordinarily,  when  on  his 
visits  to  the  various  military  posts  he  wore  a  major- 
general's  full  uniform,  a  suit  of  that  rank  having  been 
given  to  him  in  the  summer  of  1866  by  General  Han- 
cock. He  also  owned  an  ambulance,  a  team  of  mules, 
and  a  set  of  harness,  the  last  stolen,  maybe,  from  some 
caravan  he  had  raided  on  the  Trail.  In  that  ambulance, 
with  a  trained  Indian  driver,  the  wily  chief  travelled, 
wrapped  in  a  savage  dignity  that  was  truly  laughable. 
In  his  village,  too,  he  assumed  a  great  deal  of  style.  He 
was  very  courteous  to  his  white  guests,  if  at  the  time 
his  tribe  were  at  all  friendly  with  the  government ;  noth- 
ing was  too  good  for  them.  He  always  laid  down  a  car- 
pet on  the  floor  of  his  lodge  in  the  post  of  honour,  on 
which  they  were  to  sit.  He  had  large  boards,  twenty 
inches  wide  and  three  feet  long,  ornamented  with  brass 
tacks  driven  all  around  the  edges,  which  he  used  for 
tables.  He  also  had  a  French  horn,  which  he  blew  vig-. 
orously  when  meals  were  ready. 

His  friendship  was  only  dissembling.  During  all  the 
time  that  General  Sheridan  was  making  his  preparations 
for  his  intended  winter  campaign  against  the  allied  plains 
tribes,  Satanta  made  frequent  visits  to  the  military  posts, 
ostensibly  to  show  the  officers  that  he  was  heartily  for 
peace,  but  really  to  inform  himself  of  what  was  going  on. 

At  that  time  I  was  stationed  at  Fort  Harker,  on  the 
Smoky  Hill.  One  evening,  General  Sheridan,  who  was 
my  guest,  was  sitting  on  the  verandah  of  my  quarters, 
smoking  and  chatting  with  me  and  some  other  officers 
who  had  come  to  pay  him  their  respects,  when  one  of 
my  men  rode  up  and  quietly  informed  me  that  Satanta 


172  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

had  just  driven  his  ambulance  into  the  fort,  and  was  get- 
ting ready  to  camp  near  the  mule  corral.  On  receiving 
this  information,  I  turned  to  the  general  and  suggested 
the  propriety  of  either  killing  or  capturing  the  inveterate 
demon.  Personally  I  believed  it  would  be  right  to  get 
rid  of  such  a  character,  and  I  had  men  under  my  command 
who  would  have  been  delighted  to  execute  an  order  to 
that  effect. 

Sheridan  smiled  when  I  told  him  of  Satanta's  presence 
and  the  excellent  chance  to  get  rid  of  him.  But  he  said  : 
"  That  would  never  do  ;  the  sentimentalists  in  the  Eastern 
States  would  raise  such  a  howl  that  the  whole  country 
would  be  horrified  !  " 

Of  course,  in  these  "  piping  times  of  peace ""  the  reader, 
in  the  quiet  of  his  own  room,  will  think  that  my  sugges- 
tion was  brutal,  and  without  any  palliation ;  my  excuse, 
however,  may  be  found  in  General  Washington's  own 
motto :  Exitus  acta  probat.  If  the  suggestion  had  been 
acted  upon,  many  an  innocent  man  and  woman  would 
have  escaped  torture,  and  many  a  maiden  a  captivity 
worse  than  death. 

As  a  specimen  of  Satanta's  oratory,  I  offer  the  follow- 
ing, to  show  the  hypocrisy  of  the  subtle  old  villain,  and 
his  power  over  the  minds  of  too  sensitive  auditors.  Once 
Congress  sent  out  to  the  central  plains  a  commission 
from  Washington  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  the  con- 
tinual warfare  rap-ino-  with  the  savages  on  the  Kansas 
border  ;  to  learn  what  the  grievances  of  the  Indians  were; 
and  to  find  some  remedy  for  the  wholesale  slaughter  of 
men,  women,  and  children  along  the  line  of  the  Old  Trail. 

Satanta  was  sent  for  by  the  commission  as  the  lead- 
ing spirit  of  the  formidable  Kiowa  nation.  When  he 
entered  the  building  at  Fort  Dodge  in  which  daily  ses- 
sions were  held,  he  was  told  by  the  president  to  speak 
his  mind  without  any  reservation  ;  to  withhold  nothing, 


CHARLES   BENT    .  173 

but  to  truthfully  relate  what  his  tribe  had  to  complain 
of  on  the  part  of  the  whites.  The  old  rascal  grew  very 
pathetic  as  he  warmed  up  to  his  subject.  He  declared 
that  he  had  no  desire  to  kill  the  white  settlers  or  emi- 
grants crossing  the  plains,  but  that  those  who  came  and 
lived  on  the  land  of  his  tribe  ruthlessly  slaughtered  the 
buffalo,  allowing  their  carcasses  to  rot  on  the  prairie  ; 
killing  them  merely  for  the  amusement  it  afforded  them, 
while  the  Indian  only  killed  when  necessity  demanded. 
He  also  stated  that  the  white  hunters  set  out  fires,  de- 
stroying the  grass,  and  causing  the  tribe's  horses  to  starve 
to  death  as  well  as  the  buffalo  ;  that  they  cut  down  and 
otherwise  destroyed  the  timber  on  the  margins  of  the 
streams,  making  large  fires  of  it,  while  the  Indian  Avas 
satisfied  to  cook  his  food  with  a  few  dry  and  dead  limbs. 
"  Only  the  other  day,"  said  he,  "  I  picked  up  a  little 
switch  on  the  Trail,  and  it  made  my  heart  bleed  to  think 
that  so  small  a  green  branch,  ruthlessly  torn  out  of  the 
ground  and  thoughtlessly  destroyed  by  some  white  man, 
would  in  time  have  grown  into  a  stately  tree  for  the  use 
and  benefit  of  my  children  and  grandchildren." 

After  the  pow-wow  had  ended,  and  Satanta  had  got  a 
few  drinks  of  red  liquor  into  him,  his  real,  savage  nature 
asserted  itself,  and  he  said  to  the  interpreter  at  the  set- 
tler's store :  "  Now  didn't  I  give  it  to  those  white  men 
who  came  from  the  Great  Father  ?  Didn't  I  do  it  in  fine 
style  ?  Why,  I  drew  tears  from  their  eyes  !  The  switch 
I  saw  on  the  Trail  made  my  heart  glad  instead  of  sad ; 
for  I  knew  there  was  a  tenderfoot  ahead  of  me,  because 
an  old  plainsman  or  hunter  would  never  have  carried  any- 
thing but  a  good  quirt  or  a  pair  of  spurs.  So  I  said  to 
my  warriors,  '  Come  on,  bojs  ;  we've  got  him  !  '  and  when 
we  came  in  sight,  after  Ave  had  followed  him  closely  on 
the  dead  run,  he  threw  away  his  rifle  and  held  tightly  on 
to  his  hat  for  fear  he  should  lose  it !  " 


174  THE   OLD   SANTA  EE   TRAIL 

Another  time  when  Satanta  had  remained  at  Fort 
Dodge  for  a  very  long  period  and  had  worn  out  his  wel- 
come, so  that  no  one  would  give  him  anything  to  drink, 
he  went  to  the  quarters  of  his  old  friend,  Bill  Bennett, 
the  overland  stage  agent,  and  begged  him  to  give  him 
some  liquor.  Bill  was  mixing  a  bottle  of  medicine  to 
drench  a  sick  mule.  The  moment  he  set  the  bottle  down 
to  do  something  else,  Satanta  seized  it  off  the  ground 
and  drank  most  of  the  liquid  before  quitting.  Of  course, 
it  made  the  old  savage  dreadfully  sick  as  well  as  angry. 
He  then  started  for  a  certain  officer's  quarters  and  again 
begged  for  something  to  cure  him  of  the  effects  of  the 
former  dose ;  the  officer  refused,  but  Satanta  persisted  in 
his  importunities ;  he  would  not  leave  without  it.  After 
a  while,  the  officer  went  to  a  closet  and  took  a  swallow  of 
the  most  nauseating  medicine,  placing  the  bottle  back 
on  its  shelf.  Satanta  watched  his  chance,  and,  as  soon  as 
the  officer  left  the  room,  he  snatched  the  bottle  out  of  the 
closet  and  drank  its  contents  without  stopping  to  breathe. 
It  was,  of  course,  a  worse  dose  than  the  horse-medicine. 
The  next  day,  very  early  in  the  morning,  he  assembled  a 
number  of  his .  warriors,  crossed  the  Arkansas,  and  went 
south  to  his  village.  Before  leaving,  however,  he  burnt 
all  of  the  government  contractor's  hay  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  opposite  the  post.  He  then  continued  on  to  Crooked 
Creek,  where  he  murdered  three  wood-choppers,  all  of 
which,  he  said  afterward,  he  did  in  revenge  for  the  at- 
tempt to  poison  him  at  Fort  Dodge. 

At  the  Comanche  agency,  where  several  of  the  gov- 
ernment agents  were  assembled  to  have  a  talk  with  the 
chiefs  of  the  various  plains  tribes,  Satanta  said  in  his 
address  :  "  I  would  willingly  take  hold  of  that  part  of 
the  white  man's  road  which  is  represented  by  the  breech- 
loading  rifles  ;  but  I  don't  like  the  corn  rations,  —  they 
make  my  teeth  hurt  !  " 


CHARLES   BENT  175 

Big  Tree  was  another  Kiowa  chief.  He  was  the  ally 
and  close  friend  of  Satanta,  and  one  of  the  most  daring 
and  active  of  his  warriors.  The  sagacity  and  bravery  of 
these  two  savages  would  have  been  a  credit  to  that  of  the 
most  famous  warriors  of  the  old  French  and  Indian  Wars. 
Both  were  at  last  taken,  tried,  and  sent  to  the  Texas  peni- 
tentiary for  life.  Satanta  was  eventually  pardoned ;  but 
before  he  was  made  aware  of  the  efforts  that  were  being 
taken  for  his  release,  he  attempted  to  escape,  and,  in 
jumping  from  a  window,  fell  and  broke  his  neck.  His 
pardon  arrived  the  next  morning.  Big  Tree,  through  the 
work  of  the  sentimentalists  of  Washington,  was  set  free  . 
and  sent  to  the  Kiowa  Reservation,  —  near  Fort  Sill  in 
the  Indian  Territory. 

The  next  most  audacious  and  terrible  scourge  of  the 
plains  was  " Ta-ne-on-koe  "  (Kicking  Bird).  He  was  a 
great  warrior  of  the  Kiowas,  and  was  the  chief  actor  in 
some  of  the  bloodiest  raids  on  the  Kansas  frontier  in  the 
history  of  its  troublous  times. 

One  of  his  captures  was  that  of  a  Miss  Morgan  and 
Mrs.  White.  They  were  finally  rescued  from  the  savages 
by-  General  Custer,  under  the  following  circumstances  : 
Custer,  who  was  advancing  with  his  column  of  invincible 
cavalrymen  —  the  famous  Seventh  United  States  —  in 
search  of  the  two  unfortunate  women,  had  arrived  near 
the  head  waters  of  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Washita, 
and,  with  only  his  guide  and  interpreter,  was  far  in  ad- 
vance of  the  column,  when,  on  reaching  the  summit  of  an 
isolated  bluff,  they  suddenly  saw  a  village  of  the  Kiowas, 
which  turned  out  to  be  that  of  Kicking  Bird,  whose 
handsome  lodge  was  easily  distinguishable  from  the  rest. 
Without  waiting  for  his  command,  the  general  and  his 
guide  rode  boldly  to  the  lodge  of  the  great  chief,  and  both 
dismounted,  holding  cocked  revolvers  in  their  hands ; 
Custer    presented    his    at    Kicking   Bird's  head.     In  the 


176  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

meantime,  Custer's  column  of  troopers,  whom  the  Kiowas 
had  good  reason  to  remember  for  their  bravery  in  many  a 
hard-fought  battle,  came  in  full  view  of  the  astonished 
village.  This  threw  the  startled  savages  into  the  utmost 
consternation,  but  the  warriors  were  held  in  check  by 
signs  from  Kicking  Bird.  As  the  cavalry  drew  nearer, 
General  Custer  demanded  the  immediate  release  of  the 
white  women.  Their  presence  in  the  village  was  at  first 
denied  by  the  lying  chief,  and  not  until  he  had  been  led 
to  the  limb  of  a  huge  cottonwood  tree  near  the  lodge, 
with  a  rope  around  his  neck,  did  he  acknowledge  that  he 
held  the  women  and  consent  to  give  them  up. 

This  well-known  warrior,  with  a  foreknowledge  not 
usually  found  in  the  savage  mind,  seeing  the  beginning  of 
the  end  of  Indian  sovereignt}'  on  the  plains,  voluntarily 
came  in  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  authorities,  and 
stayed  on  the  reservation  near  Fort  Sill. 

In  June,  1867,  a  year  before  the  breaking  out  of  the 
great  Indian  war  on  the  central  plains,  the  whole  tribe 
of  Kiowas,  led  by  him,  assembled  at  Fort  Larned.  He 
was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  as  lie  was  without  question 
one  of  the  noblest-looking  savages  ever  seen  on  the  plains. 
On  that  occasion  he  wore  the  full  uniform  of  a  major- 
general  of  the  United  States  army.  He  was  as  correct!}' 
moulded  as  a  statue  when  on  horseback,  and  when  mounted 
on  his  magnificent  charger  the  morning  he  rode  out  with 
General  Hancock  to  visit  the  immense  Indian  camp  a  few 
miles  above  the  fort  on  Pawnee  Fork,  it  would  have 
been  a  difficult  task  to  have  determined  which  was  the 
finer-looking  man. 

After  Kicking  Bird  had  abandoned  his  wicked  career, 
he  was  regarded  by  every  army  officer  with  whom  he  had 
a  personal  acquaintance  as  a  remarkably  good  Indian ;  for 
he  really  made  the  most  strenuous  efforts  to  initiate  his 
tribe  into  the  idea  that  it  was  best   for  it  to  follow  the 


CHARLES   BENT  177 

white  man's  road.  He  argued  with  them  that  the  time 
was  very  near  when  there  would  no  longer  be  any  region 
where  the  Indians  could  live  as  they  had  been  doing, 
depending  on  the  buffalo  and  other  game  for  the  suste- 
nance of  their  families;  they  must  adapt  themselves  to 
the  methods  of  their  conquerors. 

In  July,  1869,  he  became  greatly  offended  with  the 
government  for  its  enforced  removal  of  his  tribe  from 
its  natural  and  hereditary  hunting-grounds  into  the  reser- 
vation allotted  to  it.  At  that  time  many  of  his  warriors, 
together  with  the  Comanches,  made  a  raid  on  the  defence- 
less settlements  of  the  northern  border  of  Texas,  in  Avhich 
the  savages  were  disastrously  defeated,  losing  a  large 
number  of  their  most  beloved  warriors.  On  the  return 
of  the  unsuccessful  expedition,  a  great  council  was  held, 
consisting  of  all  the  chiefs  and  head  men  of  the  two 
tribes  which  had  suffered  so  terribly  in  the  awful  light,  to 
consider  the  best  means  of  avenging  the  loss  of  so  many 
braves  and  friends.  Kicking  Bird  was  summoned  before 
that  council  and  condemned  as  a  coward ;  they  called  him 
a  squaw,  because  he  had  refused  to  go  with  the  warriors 
of  the  combined  tribes  on  the  raid  into  Texas. 

He  told  a  friend  of  mine  some  time  afterward  that  he 
had  intended  never  again  to  go  against  the  whites ;  but 
the  emergency  of  the  case,  and  his  severe  condemnation 
by  the  council,  demanded  that  he  should  do  something  to 
re-establish  himself  in  the  good  graces  of  his  tribe.  He 
then  made  one  of  the  most  destructive  raids  into  Texas 
that  ever  occurred  in  the  history  of  its  border  warfare, 
which  successfully  restored  him  to  the  respect  of  his  war- 
riors. 

In  that  raid  Kicking  Bird  carried  off  vast  herds  of 
horses  and  a  large  number  of  scalps.  Although  his  tribe 
fairly  worshipped  him,  he  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
himself.      He  could  look  into  the  future  as  well  as  any 


178  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

one,  and  from  that  time  on  to  his  tragic  death  he  laboured 
most  zealously  and  earnestly  in  connection  with  the  Indian 
agents  to  bring  his  people  to  live  on  the  reservation 
which  the  government  had  established  for  them  in  the 
Territory. 

At  the  inauguration  of  the  so-called  "  Quaker  Policy  " 
by  President  Grant,  that  sect  was  largely  intrusted  with 
the  management  of  Indian  affairs,  particularly  in  the 
selection  of  agents  for  the  various  tribes.  A  Mr.  Tatham 
was  appointed  agent  for  the  Kiowas  in  1869.  He  at  once 
gained  the  confidence  of  Kicking  Bird,  who  became  very 
valuable  to  him  as  an  assistant  in  controlling  the  savages. 
It  was  through  that  chief's  influence  that  Thomas  Batty, 
another  Quaker,  was  allowed  to  take  up  his  residence  with 
the  tribe,  the  first  white  man  ever  accorded  that  privilege. 
Batty  was  permitted  to  erect  three  tents,  which  were 
staked  together,  converting  them  into  an  ample  school- 
house.  In  that  crude,  temporary  structure  he  taught  the 
Kiowa  youth  the  rudiments  of  an  education.  This  very  suc- 
cessful innovation  shows  how  earnest  the  former  dreaded 
savage  was  in  his  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his 
people,  by  trying  to  induce  them  to  "  take  the  white 
man's  road." 

Batty  succeeded  admirably  for  a  year  in  his  office  of 
teacher,  the  chief  all  the  time  nobly  withstanding  the 
taunts  and  jeers  of  his  warriors  and  their  threats  of  tak- 
ing his  life,  for  daring  to  allow  a  white  man  within  the 
sacred  precincts  of  their  village,  —  a  thing  unparalleled 
in  the  annals  of  the  tribe. 

At  last  trouble  came ;  the  dissatisfied  members  of  the 
tribe,  the  ambitious  and  restless  young  men,  eager  for  re- 
nown, made  another  unsuccessful  raid  into  Texas.  The  re- 
sult was  that  they  lost  nearly  the  whole  of  the  band,  among 
which  was  the  favourite  son  of  Lone  Wolf,  a  noted  chief.1 
1  Lone  Wolf  was  really  the  head  chief  of  the  Kiowas. 


CHAKLES   BENT  179 

After  the  death  of  his  son,  he  declared  that  he  must  and 
would  have  the  scalp  of  a  white  man  in  revenge  for  the 
untimely  taking  off  of  the  young  warrior.  Of  course,  the 
most  available  white  man  at  this  juncture  was  Batty, 
the  Quaker  teacher,  and  he  was  chosen  by  Lone  Wolf  as 
the  victim  of  savage  revenge.  Here  the  noble  instincts 
of  Kicking  Bird  developed  themselves.  He  very  plainly 
told  Lone  Wolf,  who  was  constantly  threatening  and 
thirsting  for  blood,  that  he  could  not  kill  Batty  until  he 
first  killed  him  and  all  Ins  band.  But  Lone  Wolf  had 
fully  determined  to  have  the  hair  of  the  innocent  Quaker  ; 
so  Kicking  Bird,  to  avert  any  collision  between  the  two 
bands  of  Indians,  kidnapped  Batty  and  ran  him  off  to  the 
agency,  arriving  at  Fort  Sill  about  an  hour  before  Lone 
Wolf's  band  of  avengers  overtook  them,  and  thus  the 
Quaker  teacher  was  saved. 

One  day,  long  after  these  occurrences,  a  friend  of  mine 
was  in  the  sutler's  store  at  Fort  Sill.  In  there  was  a 
stranger  talking  to  Mr.  Fox,  the  agent  of  the  Indians. 
Soon  Kicking  Bird  entered  the  establishment,  and  the 
stranger  asked  Mr.  Fox  who  that  fine-looking  Indian  was. 
He  was  told,  and  then  he  begged  the  agent  to  say  to  him 
that  he  would  like  to  have  a  talk  with  liim ;  for  he  it  was 
who  led  that  famous  raid  into  Texas.  "  I  never  saw 
better  generalship  in  the  field  in  all  my  experience.  He 
had  three  horses  killed  under  him.  I  was  the  surgeon 
of  the  rangers  and  was,  of  course,  in  the  fight."1 

When  Kicking  Bird  Avas  told  that  the  Texas  doctor 
desired  to  talk  with  him,  he  replied  with  great  dignity 
that  he  did  not  want  to  revive  those  troublous  times. 
"  Tell  him,  though,"  said  Kicking  Bird,  "  that  was  my 
last  raid  against  the  whites;  that  I  am  a  changed  man." 

The  President  of  the  United  States  sent  for  Kicking 
Bird  to  come  to  Washington,  and  to  bring  with  him  such 
1  The  battle  lasted  three  days. 


180  THE  OLD  SANTA  EE  TRAIL 

other  influential  Indians  as  he  thought  might  aid  in 
inducing  the  Kiowas  to  cease  their  continual  raiding  on 
the  border  of  Texas. 

In  due  time  Kicking  Bird  left  for  the  capital,  taking 
with  him  Lone  Wolf,  Big  Bow,  and  Sun  Boy  of  the 
Kiowas,  together  with  several  of  the  head  men  of  the 
Comanches.  When  the  deputation  of  savages  arrived  in 
Washington,  it  was  received  at  the  presidential  mansion 
by  the  chief  magistrate  himself.  So  much  more  attention 
was  given  to  Kicking  Bird  than  to  the  others,  that  they 
became  very  jealous,  particularly  when  the  President  an- 
nounced to  them  the  appointment  of  Kicking  Bird  as  the 
head  chief  of  the  tribe.1  But  Lone  Wolf  would  never 
recognize  his  authority,  constantly  urging  the  young  men 
to  raid  the  settlements.  Lone  Wolf  was  a  genuine  sav- 
age, without  one  redeeming  trait,  and  his  hatred  of  the 
white  race  was  unparalleled  in  its  intensity.  He  was 
never  known  to  smile.  No  other  Indian  can  show  such  a 
record  of  horrible  massacres  as  he  is  responsible  for.  His 
orders  were  rigidly  obeyed,  for  he  brooked  no  disobedi- 
ence on  the  part  of  his  warriors. 

In  the  summer  of  1876,  a  party  of  English  gentlemen 
left  Fort  Harker  for  a  buffalo  hunt.  Thej'  soon  exhausted 
all  their  rations  and  started  a  four-mule  team  back  to  the 
post  for  more.  Some  of  Lone  Wolf's  band  of  cut-throats 
came  across  the  unfortunate  teamster,  killed  him,  and  ran 
off  the  team.  After  the  occurrence,  Kicking  Bird  came 
into  the  agency  at  Fort  Sill  and  told  Air.  Ha  worth,  the 
agent,  that  he  had  given  his  word  to  the  Great  Father  at 
Washington  he  would  do  all  he  could  to  bring"  in  those 
Indians  who  had  been  raiding  by  order  of  Lone  Wolf, 
particularly  the  two  who  had  killed  the  Englishmen's 
driver. 

1  Kicking  Bird  was  ever  afterward  so  regarded  by  the  authorities  of 
the  Indian  department. 


CHARLES   BENT  181 

He  succeeded  in  bringing  in  twelve  Indians  in  all, 
among  them  the  murderers  of  the  driver.  They,  with 
Lone  Wolf  and  Satank,  were  sent  to  the  Dry  Tortugas 
for  life.  The  morning  they  started  on  their  journey 
Satank  talked  very  feelingly  to  Kicking  Bird,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes.  He  said  that  they  might  look  for  his  hones 
along  the  road,  for  he  would  never  go  to  Florida.  The 
savages  were  loaded  into  government  wagons.  Satank 
was  inside  of  one  with  a  soldier  on  each  side  of  him, 
their  legs  hanging  outside.  Somehow  the  crafty  villain 
managed  to  slip  the  handcuffs  off  his  wrists,  at  the  same 
instant  seizing  the  rifle  of  one  of  his  guards,  and  then 
shoved  the  two  men  out  with  his  feet.  He  tried  to  work 
the  lever  of  the  rifle,  but  could  not  move  it,  and  one  of 
the  soldiers,  coming  around  the  wagon  to  where  he  was 
still  trying  to  get  the  gun  so  as  he  could  use  it,  shot 
him  down,  and  then  threw  his  body  on  the  Trail.  Thus 
Satank  made  good  his  vow  that  he  would  never  be  taken 
to  Florida.     He  met  his  death  only  a  mile  from  the  post. 

After  the  departure  of  the  condemned  savages,  the  feel- 
ing in  the  tribe  against  Kicking  Bird  increased  to  an 
alarming  extent.  Several  times  the  most  incensed  warriors 
tried  to  kill  him  by  shooting  at  him  from  an  ambush. 
After  he  became  fully  aware  that  his  life  was  in  danger, 
he  never  left  his  lodge  without  his  carbine.  He  was  as 
brave  as  a  lion,  fearing  none  of  the  members  of  Lone 
Wolf's  band ;  but  he  often  said  it  was  only  a  question  of 
a  short  time  when  he  would  be  gotten  rid  of  ;  he  did 
not^llow  the  matter,  however,  to  worry  him  in  the  least, 
saying  .that  he  was  conscious  he  had  done  his  duty  by  his 
tribe  and  the  Great  Father. 

In  a  bend  of  Cash  Creek,  about  half  a  mile  below  the 
mill,  about  half  a  dozen  of  the  Kiowas  had  their  lodges, 
that  of  their  chief  being  among  them.  At  ten  o'clock 
one  Monday  in  June,  1876,  Mr.  Haworth,  the  agent,  came 


182  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

ill  haste  to  the  shops,  called  the  master  mechanic,  Mr. 
Wykes,  out,  told  him  to  jump  into  the  carriage  quickly; 
that  Kicking  Bird  was  dead. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  home  of  the  great  chief,  sure 
enough  he  was  dead,  and  some  of  the  women  were  engaged 
in  folding  his  body  in  robes.  Other  squaws  were  cutting 
themselves  in  a  -terrible  manner,  as  is  their  custom  when 
a  relative  dies,  and  were  also  breaking  everything  break- 
able about  the  lodge.  Kicking  Bird  had  always  been 
scrupulously  clean  and  neat  in  the  care  of  his  home  ;  it 
was  adorned  with  the  most  beautifully  dressed  buffalo 
robes  and  the  finest  furs,  while  the  floor  was  covered 
with  matting. 

It  seems  that  Kicking  Bird,  after  visiting  Mr.  Wykes 
that  morning,  went  immediately  to  his  lodge,  and  sat 
down  to  eat  something,  but  just  as  he  had  finished  a  cup 
of  coffee,  he  fell  over,  dead.  He-  had  in  his  service  a 
Mexican  woman,  and  she  had  been  bribed  to  poison  him. 

An  expensive  coffin  was  made  at  the  agency  for  his 
remains,  fashioned  out  of  the  finest  black  walnut  to  be 
found  in  the  country  where  that  timber  grows  to  such  a 
luxuriant  extent.  It  was  eight  feet  long  and  four  feet 
deep,  but  even  then  it  did  not  hold  one-half  of  his  effects, 
which  were,  according  to  the  savage  custom,  interred  with 
his  bod)-. 

The  cries  and  lamentations  of  the  warriors  and  women 
of  his  band  were  heartrending  ;  such  a  manifestation  of 
grief  was  never  before  witnessed  at  the  agency.  A  hand- 
some fence  was  erected  around  his  grave,  in  the  cemetery 
at  Fort  Sill,  and  the  government  ordered  a  beautiful  mar- 
ble monument  to  be  raised  over  it ;  but  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  ever  done. 

Kicking  Bird  was  only  forty  years  old  at  the  time  of  his 
sudden  taking  off,  and  was  very  wealth)'  for  an  Indian. 
He  knew  the  uses  of  money  and  was  a  careful  saver  of 


CHARLES   BENT  183 

it.  A  great  roll  of  greenbacks  was  placed  in  bis  coffin, 
and  that  fact  having  leaked  out,  it  was  rumoured  that 
his  grave  was  robbed;  but  the  story  may  not  have  been 
true. 

One  of  the  greatest  terrors  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail 
was  the  half-breed  Indian  desperado  Charles  Bent.  His 
mother  was  a  Cheyenne  squaw,  and  his  father  the  famous 
trader,  Colonel  Bent.  He  was  born  at  the  base  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  at  a  very  early  age  placed  in  one 
of  the  best  schools  that  St.  Louis  afforded.  His  venerable 
sire,  with  only  a  limited  education  himself,  was  determined 
that  his  boy  should  profit  by  the  culture  and  refinement 
of  civilization,  so  he  was  not  allowed  to  return  to  his 
mountain  home  at  Bent's  Fort,  and  the  savage  conditions 
under  which  he  was  born,  until  he  had  attained  his  ma- 
jority. He  then  spoke  no  language  but  English.  His 
mother  died  while  he  was  absent  at  school,  and  his  father 
continued  to  live  at  the  old  fort,  where  Charles,  after  he 
had  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one,  joined  liim. 

Some  Washington  sentimentalist,  philosophizing  on  the 
Indian  character,  his  knowledge  being  based  on  Cooper's 
novels  probably,  has  said  :  "  Civilization  has  very  marked 
effects  upon  an  Indian.  If  he  once  learns  to  speak  Eng- 
lish, he  will  soon  forget  all  his  native  cunning  and  pride 
of  race."  Let  us  see  how  this  theory  worked  with  Char- 
ley Bent. 

As  soon  as  the  educated  half-breed  set  his  foot  on  his 
native  heath  he  readily  found  enough  ambitious  young 
bucks  of  his  own  age  who  were  willing  to  look  on  him  as 
their  leader.  They  loved  him.  too,  if  such  a  thing  were 
possible,  as  Fra  Diavolo  was  loved  by  his  wild  followers. 
His  band  was  known  as  the  "  Dog-Soldiers  " ;  a  sort  of  a 
semi-military  organization,  consisting  of  the  most  daring, 
blood-thirsty  young  men  of  the  tribe  ;  and  sometimes 
"squaw-men,"   that    is,   renegade  white   men   married   to 


184  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

squaws,  attached  themselves  to  his  command  of  cut- 
throats. 

At  the  head  of  this  collection  of  the  worst  savages, 
hardly  ever  numbering  over  a  hundred,  Charles  Bent 
robbed  ranches,  attacked  wagon-trains,  overland  coaches, 
and  army  caravans.  He  stole  and  murdered  indiscrimi- 
nately. The  history  of  his  bloody  work  will  never  be 
wholly  revealed,  for  dead  men  have  no  tongues. 

He  would  visit  all  alone,  in  the  guise  of  plainsman, 
hunter,  or  cattleman,  the  emigrant  trains  crossing  the 
continent,  always,  however,  those  which  had  only  small 
escorts  or  none  at  all.  Feigning  hunger,  while  his  needs 
were  being  kindly  furnished,  he  would  glance  around  him 
to  learn  what  kind  of  an  outfit  it  was ;  its  value,  its  desti- 
nation, and  how  well  guarded.  Then  he  would  take  his 
leave  with  many  thanks,  rejoin  his  band,  and  with  it  dash 
down  on  the  train  and  kill  every  human  being  unfortunate 
enough  not  to  have  escaped  before  he  arrived. 

He  was  indefatigable  in  his  efforts  to  kill  off  the  whole 
corps  of  army  scouts.  He  would  pass  himself  off  as  a 
fellow-scout,  as  a  deserter  from  some  military  post,  or  as 
an  Indian  trader,  for  he  was  a  wonderful  actor,  and  would 
have  achieved  histrionic  honours  had  he  chosen  the  stage 
as  a- profession. 

He  would  always  time  his  actions  so  as  to  be  found 
apparently  asleep  by  a  little  camp-fire  on  the  bank  of 
Pawnee  Fork,  Crooked,  Mulberry,  or  Walnut  creeks,  all 
of  which  streams  intercepted  the  trails  running  north 
and  south  between  the  several  military  posts  during  the 
Indian  war,  when  he  would  seem  delighted  and  aston- 
ished, or  else  simulate  suspicion.  Then  he  would  either 
murder  the  unsuspecting  scout  with  his  own  hands,  or 
deliver  him  to  the  red  fiends  of  his  band  to  be  tor- 
mented. 

The    government    offered    a    reward    of   five    thousand 


CHARLES    BENT  1£5 

dollars  for  Bent's  capture,  dead  or  alive.  It  was  re- 
ported currently  that  he  was  at  last  killed  in  a  battle 
with  some  deputy  United  States  marshals,  and  that  they 
received  the  reward  ;  but  the  whole  thing  was  manufac- 
tured out  of  whole  cloth,  and  if  the  marshals  received  the 
money,  Uncle  Sam  was  most  outrageously  swindled. 

The  facts  are  that  he  died  of  malarial  fever  superin- 
duced by  a  wound  received  in  a  right  with  the  Kaws, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Walnut  and  not  far  from  Fort 
Zarah.  His  "  Dog-Soldiers  "  were  whipped  by  the  Kaws, 
and  his  band  driven  off.  Bent  lingered  for  some  time 
and  died. 


3a!dm 


CHAPTER   XI 


NEGLECT  OF  NEW  MEXICO  BY  THE  UNITED  STATES  GOVERN- 
MENT  INTENDED  CONQUEST  OF  THE  PROVINCE CONSPIR- 
ACY     OF      SOUTHERN      LEADERS  SURRENDER      BY      GENERAL 

TWIGGS     TO     THE    CONFEDERATE    GOVERNMENT    OF     THE    MILI- 
TARY POSTS    AND    MUNITIONS    OF    WAR   UNDER    HIS    COMMAND 

ONLY    ONE    SOLDIER    OUT    OF    TWO    THOUSAND    DESERTS    TO 

THE    ENEMY ORGANIZATION    OF    VOLUNTEERS    FOR    THE    DE- 
FENCE    OF     COLORADO     AND     NEW     MEXICO BATTLE     OF     LA 

GLORIETA ROUT    OF    THE    REBELS 


ff/TQoon 


EW     MEXICO,    at    the 

breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War,  was  abandoned  by 
the  government  at  Wash- 
ington, or  at  least  so 
overlooked  that  the 
charge  of  neglect  was 
merited.  In  the  report  of 
the  committee'  on  the  Con- 
duct of  the  War,  under 
date  of  July  15, 1862,  Brevet 
Lieutenant-Colonel  B.  S.  Rob- 
erts of  the  regular  army,  major 
of  the  Third  Cavalry,  who  was 
stationed  in  the  Territory  in  1861,  says  :  "  It  appears  to 
me  to  be  the  determination  of  General  Thomas1  not  to 
acknowledge  the  service  of  the  officers  who  saved  the 
Territory  of  New- Mexico;  and  the  utter  neglect  of  the 
1  Lorenzo  Thomas,  adjutant-general  of  the  United  States  army. 

180 


LA    GLORIETA  187 

adjutant-general's  department  for  the  last  year  to  com- 
municate in  any  wajr  with  the  commanding  officer  of  the 
department  of  New  Mexico,  or  to  answer  his  urgent  ap- 
peals for  reinforcements,  for  money  and  other  supplies, 
in  connection  with  his  repudiation  of  the  services  of  all 
the  army  there,  convinces  me  that  he  is  not  gratified  at 
their  loyalty  and  their  success  in  saving  that  Territory  to 
the  Union." 

If  space  could  be  given  to  the  story  of  the  carefully 
prepared  plans  of  the  leaders  of  secession  for  the  con- 
quest of  all  the  territory  south  of  a  line  drawn  from 
Maryland  directly  west  to  the  Pacific  coast,  in  which 
were  California,  Arizona,  and  New  Mexico,  it  would  reveal 
some  startling  facts,  and  prove  beyond  question  that  it 
was  the  intention  of  Jefferson  Davis  to  precipitate  the 
rebellion  a  decade  before  it  actually  occurred.  The  basis 
of  the  scheme  was  to  inaugurate  a  war  between  Texas  — 
which,  when  admitted  into  the  Union,  claimed  all  that 
part  of  New  Mexico  east  of  the  Rio  Grande  —  and  the 
United  States,  in  which  conflict  Mississippi  and  some  of 
the  other  Southern  States  were  to  become'  participants. 
The  plan  fell  flat,  because,  in  1851,  Mr.  Davis  failed  of  a 
re-election  to  the  governorship  of  Mississippi. 

So  confident  were  many  of  Mr.  Davis'  allies  in  regard 
to  the- contemplated  rebellion,  that  they  boasted  to  their 
friends  of  the  North,  upon  leaving  Washington,  that  when 
they  met  again,  it  would  be  upon  a  Southern  battle-field. 

I  have  alluded  incidentally  to  what  is  known  as  the 
Texas  Santa  Fe  Expedition,  inaugurated  by  the  President 
of  what  was  then  the  republic  of  Texas,  Mirabeau  B. 
Lamar.  It  was  given  out  to  the  world  that  it  was  merely 
one  of  commercial  interest, — to  increase  the  trade  be- 
tween the  two  countries  ;  but  that  it  was  intended  for  the 
conquest  of  New  Mexico,  no  one  now,  in  the  light  of 
history,  doubts.     It  resulted  in   disaster,  and  is   a   story 


188  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL 

well  worthy  the  examination  of  the  student  of  American 
politics.1 

In  1861  General  Twiggs  commanded  the  military 
department  of  which  Texas  was  an  important  part.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  he  surrendered  to  the  Confeder- 
ate government  the  troops,  the  munitions  of  war,  the 
forts,  or  posts  as  they  were  properly  termed,  and  every- 
thing pertaining  to  the  United  States  army  under  his 
control.  It  was  the  intention  of  the  Confederacy  to  use 
this  region  as  a  military  base  from  which  to  continue  its 
conquests  westward,  and  capture  the  various  forts  in 
New  Mexico.  Particularly  they  had  their  eyes  upon  Fort 
Union,  where  there  was  an  arsenal,  which  John  B.  Floyd, 
Secretary  of  AVar,  had  taken  especial  care  to  have  well 
stocked  previously  to  the  act  of  secession. 

But  the  conspirators  had  reckoned  without  their  host ; 
the}'  imagined  the  native  Mexicans  would  eagerly  accept 
their  overtures,  and  readily  support  the  Southern  Confed- 
eracy. Mr.  Davis  and  his  coadjutors  had  evidently  for- 
gotten the  effect  of  the  Texas  Santa  Fe  Expedition,  in 
1841,  upon  the  people  of  the  Province  of  New  Mexico  ; 
but  the  natives  themselves  had  not.  Besides  the  lo}7alty 
of  the  Mexicans,  there  was  a  factor  which  the  Confederate 
leaders  had  failed  to  consider,  which  was  that  the  majority 
of  the  American  pioneers  had  come  from  loj'al  States. 

Of  course,  there  were  many  secessionists  both  in  Colo- 
rado and  New  Mexico  who  were  watching  the  progress  of 
rebellion  in  eager  anticipation ;  and  it  is  claimed  that  in 
Denver  a  rebel  flag  was  raised  —  but  how  true  that  is  I 
do  not  know. 

John  B.  Floyd,  Secretary  of  War,  was  one  of  the  lead- 
ing spirits  of  the  Confederacy.  A  year  before  the  Civil 
War  he  placed  in  command  of  the  department  of  New 

1  Kendall's  Santa  Fe  Expedition  may  be  found  in  all  the  large  libra- 
ries. 


LA   GLORIETA  189 

Mexico  a  North  Carolinian,  Colonel  Loring,  who  was  in 
perfect  sympathy  with  his  superior,  and  willing  to  carry 
out  his  well-defined  plans.  In  1861  he  ordered  Colonel 
G.  B.  Crittenden  on  an  expedition  against  the  Apaches. 
This  officer  at  once  tried  to  induce  his  troops  to  attach 
themselves  to  the  rebel  army  in  Texas,  but  he  was  met 
with  an  indignant  refusal  by  Colonel  Roberts  and  the 
regular  soldiers  under  him.  The  loyal  colonel  told  Crit- 
tenden, in  the  most  forcible  language,  that  he  would  resist 
any  such  attempt  on  his  part,  and  reported  the  action  of 
Colonel  Crittenden  to  the  commander  of  the  department 
at  Santa  Fe.  Of  course,  Colonel  Loring  paid  no  attention 
to  the  complaint  of  disloyalty,  and  then  Colonel  Roberts 
conveyed  the  tidings  to  the  commanding  officers  of  several 
military  posts  in  the  Territory,  whom  he  knew  were  true 
to  the  Union,  and  only  one  man  out  of  nearly  two  thou- 
sand regular  soldiers  renounced  his  flag.  Some  of  the 
officers  stationed  at  New  Mexico  were  of  a  different  mind, 
and  one  of  them,  Major  Lynde,  commanding  Fort  Filmore, 
surrendered  to  a  detachment  of  Texans,  who  paroled  the 
enlisted  men,  as  they  firmly  refused  to  join  the  rebel  forces. 
Upon  the  desertion  of  Colonel  Loring  to  the  Southern 
Confederacy,  General  Edward  R.  S.  Canby  was  assigned 
to  the  command  of  the  department ;  next  in  rank  was 
the  loyal  Roberts.  At  this  perilous  juncture  in  New 
Mexico,  there  were  but  a  thousand  regulars  all  told,  but 
the  Territory  furnished  two  regiments  of  volunteers, 
commanded  by  officers  whose  names  had  been  famous  on 
the  border  for  years.  Among  these  was  Colonel  Ceran 
St.  Vrain,  who  had  been  conspicuous  in  the  suppression 
of  the  Mexican  insurrection  of  1817,  fifteen  years  before. 
Kit  Carson  was  lieutenant-colonel  ;  J.  F.  Chaves,  major  ; 
and  the  most  prominent  of  the  line  officers  Captain  Albert 
H.  Pfeiffer,  with  a  record  as  an  Indian  fighter  equal  to 
that  of  Carson. 


190  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

At  the  same  time  Colorado  was  girding  on  her  armour 
for  the  impending  conflict.  The  governor  of  the  pros- 
perous Territory  was  William  Gilpin,  an  old  army  officer, 
who  had  spent  a  large  part  of  his  life  on  the  frontier,  and 
had  accompanied  Colonel  Doniphan,  as  major  of  his  regi- 
ment, across  the  plains,  on  the  expedition  to  New  Mexico 
in  1846. 

Colonel  Gilpin  at  once  responded  to  the  pleadings  of 
New  Mexico  .for  help,  by  organizing  two  companies  at 
first,  quickly  following  with  a  full  regiment.  This  Colo- 
rado regiment  was  composed  of  as  fine  material  as  any 
portion  of  the  United  States  could  furnish.  John  P. 
Slough,  a  war  Democrat  and  a  lawyer,  was  its  colonel. 
He  afterwards  became  chief  justice  of  New  Mexico,  and 
was  brutally  murdered  in  that  Territory. 

John  M.  Chivington,  a  strict  Methodist  and  a  presiding 
elder  of  that  church,  Avas  offered  the  chaplaincy,  but  firmly 
declined,  and,  like  many  others  who  wore  the  clerical  garb, 
he  quickly  doffed  it  and  put  on  the  attire  of  a  soldier;  so 
he  was  made  major,  and  his  record  as  a  fighter  was  equal 
to  the  best. 

The  commanding  general  knew  well  the  plans  of  the 
rebels  as  to  their  intended  occupation  of  New  Mexico, 
and,  notwithstanding  the  weakness  of  his  force,  deter- 
mined to  frustrate  them  if  within  the  limits  of  possibility. 
To  that  end  he  concentrated  his  little  army,  comprising 
a  thousand  regular  soldiers,  the  two  regiments  of  New 
Mexico  volunteers,  two  companies  of  Colorado  troops,  and 
a  portion  of  the  territorial  militia,  at  Fort  Craig,  on  the 
Rio  Grande,  to  await  the  approach  of  the  Confederate 
troops,  under  the  command  of  General  H.  H.  Sibley,  an 
old  regular  army  officer,  a  native  of  Louisiana,  and  the 
inventor  of  the  comfortable  tent  named  after  him. 

Sibley's  brigade  comprised  some  three  thousand  men, 
the   majqrity   of    them    Texans,    and    he    expected   that 


LA   GLOKIETA  191 

many  more  would  flock  to  his  standard  as  he  moved 
northward.  On  the  19th  of  February,  1862,  he  crossed 
the  Rio  Grande  below  Fort  Craig,  not  daring  to  attack 
Canby  in  his  intrenched  position.  The  Union  commander, 
in  order,  to  keep  the  Texas  troops  from  gaining  the  high 
points  overlooking  the  fort,  placed  portions  of  the  Fifth, 
Seventh,  and  Tenth  Regulars,  together  with  Carson's  and 
Pino's  volunteers,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  No 
collision  occurred  that  day,  but  the  next  afternoon  Major 
Duncan,  with  his  cavalry  and  Captain  M'Rae's  light 
battery,  having  been  sent  across  to  reinforce  the  infantry, 
a  heavy  artillery  fire  was  immediately  opened  upon  them 
by  the  Texans.  The  men  under  Carson  behaved  splen- 
didly, but  the  other  volunteer  regiments  became  a  little 
demoralized,  and  the  general  was  compelled  to  call  back 
the  force  into  the  fort.  Sibley's  force,  both  men  and 
animals,  suffered  much  from  thirst,  the  latter  stampeding, 
and  many,  wandering  into  our  lines,  were  caught  by  the 
scouts  of  the  Union  forces.  The  next  morning  early 
Colonel  Roberts  was  ordered  to  proceed  about  seven  miles 
up  the  river  to  keep  the  Texans  away  from  the  water  at 
a  point  where  it  was  alone  accessible,  on  account  of  the 
steepness  of  the  banks  everywhere  else. 

The  gallant  Roberts,  on  arriving  at  the  ford,  planted 
a  battery  there,  and  at  once  opened  fire.  This  was  the 
battle  of  Valverde,  the  details  of  which,  however,  do  not 
belong  to  this  book,  having  been  only  incidentally  referred 
to  in  order  to  lead  the  reader  intelligently  up  to  that  of 
La  Glorieta,  Apache  Canon,  or  Pigeon's  Ranch,  as  it  is 
indifferently  called. 

Valverde  was  lost  to  the  Union  troops,  but  never  did 
men  fight  more  valiantly,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  who 
did  not  act  the  part  of  the  true  soldier.  The  brave  M'Rae 
mounted  one  of  the  guns  of  his  battery,  choosing  to  die 
rather  than  surrender. 


192  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TEAIL 

General  Sibley,  after  his  doubtful  victory  at  Valverde, 
continued  on  to  Albuquerque  and  Santa  Fe.  The  old 
city  offered  no  resistance  to  his  occupation ;  in  fact,  some 
of  the  most  influential  Mexicans  were  pleased,  their  lean- 
ing being  strongly  toward  the  Southern  Confederacy  ;  but 
the  common  people  were  as  loyal  to  the  Union  as  those  of 
any  of  the  Northern  States,  a  feeling  intensified  by  their 
hatred  for  the  Texans  on  account  of  the  expedition  of 
conquest  in  1841,  twenty-one  years  before.  They  con- 
tributed of  their  means  to  aid  the  United  States  troops, 
but  have  never  received  proper  credit  for  their  action  in 
those  days  of  trouble  in  the  neglected  Territory. 

The  Confederate  general  was  disappointed  at  the  way 
in  which  affairs  were  going,  for  he  had  based  great  hopes 
upon  the  defection  of  the  native  residents  ;  but  he  deter- 
mined to  march  forward  to  Fort  Union,  where  his  friend 
Floyd  had  placed  such  stores  as  were  likely  to  be  needed 
in  the  campaign  which  he  had  designed. 

From  Santa  Fe  to  Fort  Union,  where  the  arsenal  was 
located,  the  road  runs  through  the  deep,  rocky  gorge  known 
as  Apache  Canon.  It  is  one  of  the  wildest  spots  in  the- 
mountains,  the  walls  on  each  side  rising  from  one  to  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  Trail,  which  is  within  the  range 
of  ordinary  cannon  from  every  point,  and  in  many  places 
of  point-blank  rifle-shot.  Granite  rocks  and  sands  abound, 
and  the  hills  are  covered  with  long-leafed  pine.  It  is  a 
gateway  which,  in  the  hands  of  a  skilful  engineer  and  one 
hundred  resolute  men,  can  be  made  perfectly  impregnable. 

The  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe"  Railway  passes 
directly  through  this  picturesque  chasm,  every  foot  of 
which  is  classic  ground,  and  in  the  season  of  the  moun- 
tain freshets  constant  care  is  needed  to  keep  its  bridges  in 
place. 

At  its  eastern  entrance  is  a  large  residence,  known  as 
Pigeon's   Ranch,  from   which  the  battle  to  be  described 


LA   GLORIETA  193 

derives  its  name,  though,  as  stated,  it  is  also  known  as 
that  of  Apache  Canon,  and  La  Glorieta,1  the  latter,  per- 
haps, the  most  classical,  from  the  range  of  mountains 
enclosing  the  rent  in  the  mighty  hills. 

The  following  detailed  account  of  this  battle  I  have 
taken  from  the  History  of  Colorado?  an  admirable  work : 
"  The  sympathizers  ■  with  and  abettors  of  the  South- 
ern Confederacy  inaugurated  their  plans  by  posting 
handbills  in  all  conspicuous  places  between  Denver  and 
the  mining-camps,  designating  certain  localities  where 
the  highest  prices  would  be  paid  for  arms  of  every  de- 
scription, and  for  powder,  lead,  shot,  and  percussion  caps. 
Simultaneously,  a  small  force  was  collected  and  put  under 
discipline  to  co-operate  with  parties  expected  from  Arkan- 
sas and  Texas  who  were  to  take  possession,  first  of  Colo- 
rado, and  subsequently  of  New  Mexico,  anticipating  the 
easy  capture  of  the  Federal  troops  and  stores  "located 
there.  Being  apprised  of  the  movement,  the  governor 
immediately  decided  to  enlist  a  full  regiment  of  volun- 
teers. John  P.  Slough  was  appointed  colonel,  Samuel 
F.  Tappan  lieutenant-colonel,  and  John  J.  M.  Chiving- 
ton  major. 

"  Without  railroads  or  telegraphs  nearer  than  the  Mis- 
souri River,  and  wholly  dependent  upon  the  overland 
mail  coach  for  communication  with  the  States  and  the 
authorities  at  Washington,  news  was  at  least  a  week 
old  when  received.  Thus  the  troops  passed  the  time  in  a 
condition  of  doubt  and  extreme  anxiety,  until  the  6th  of 
January,  1862,  when  information  arrived  that  an  invading 
force  under  General  H.  H.  Sibley,  from  San  Antonio, 
Texas,  was  approaching  the  southern  border  of  New  Mex- 
ico, and  had  already  captured  Forts  Fillmore  and  Bliss, 
making  prisoners  of  their  garrisons  without  firing  a  gun, 
and  securing  all  their  stock  and  supplies. 

1  A  summer-house,  bower,  or  arbour.       2  Frank  Hall,  Chicago,  1885. 


194  THE    ULD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL 

"  Immediately  upon  receipt  of  this  intelligence,  efforts 
were  made  to  obtain  the  consent  of,  or  orders  from,  Gen- 
eral Hunter,  commanding  the  department  at  Fort  Leaven- 
worth, Kansas,  for  the  regiment  to  go  to  the  relief  of 
General  Canity,  then  in  command  of  the  department  of 
New  Mexico.  On  the  20th  of  February,  orders  came 
from  General  Hunter,  directing  Colonel  Slough  and  the 
First  Regiment  of  Colorado  Volunteers  to  proceed  with  all 
possible  despatch  to  Fort  Union,  or  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico, 
and  report  to  General  Canby  for  service. 

"Two  days  thereafter,  the  command  marched  out  of 
Camp  Weld  two  miles  up  the  Platte  River,  and  in 
due  time  encamped  at  Pueblo,  on  the  Arkansas  River. 
At  this  point  further  advices  were  received  from  Canby, 
stating  that  lie  had  encountered  the  enemy  at  Valverde, 
ten  miles  north  of  Fort  Craig,  but,  owing  to  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  the  newly  raised  New  Mexican  volunteers,  was 
compelled  to  retire.  The  Texans  under  Sibley  marched 
on  up  the  Rio  Grande,  levying  tribute  upon  the  inhabi- 
tants for  their  support.  The  Colorado  troops  were  urged 
to  the  greatest  possible  haste  hi  reaching  Fort  Union, 
where  they  were  to  unite  with  such  regular  troops  as 
could  be  concentrated  at  that  post,  and  thus  aid  in  sav- 
ing the  fort  and  its  supplies  from  falling  into  Confed- 
erate hands.  Early  on  the  following  morning  the  order 
was  given  to  proceed  to  Union  by  forced  marches,  and  it 
is  doubtful  if  the  same  number  of  men  ever  marched  a 
like  distance  in  the  same  length  of  time. 

"  When  the  summit  of  Raton  Pass  was  reached,  another 
courier  from  Canby  met  the  command,  who  informed 
Colonel  Slough  that  the  Texans  had  alread}r  captured  Al- 
buquerque and  Santa  Fe  with  all  the  troops  stationed  at 
those  places,  together  with  the  supplies  stored  there,  and 
that  they  were  then  marching  on  Fort  Union. 

"  Arriving  at  Red  River  about  sundown,  the  regiment 


LA    GLORIETA  195 

was  drawn  up  in  line  and  this  information  imparted  to 
the  men.  The  request  was  then  made  for  all  who  were 
willing  to  undertake  a  forced  march  at  night  to  step  two 
paces  to  the  front,  when  every  man  advanced  to  the  new 
alignment.  After  a  hasty  supper  the  march  was  resumed, 
and  at  sunrise  the  next  morning  they  reached  Maxwell's 
Ranch  on  the  Cimarron,  having  made  sixty-four  miles  in 
less  than  twenty-four  hours.  At  ten  o'clock  on  the  sec- 
ond night  thereafter,  the  command  entered  Fort  Union. 
It  was  there  discovered  that  Colonel  Paul,  in  charge  of 
the  post,  had  mined  the  fort,  giving  orders  for  the  re- 
moval of  the  women  and  children,  and  was  preparing  to 
blow  up  all  the  supplies  and  march  to  Fort  Garland  or 
some  other  post  to  the  northward,  on  the  first  approach 
of  the  Confederates. 

"The  troops  remained  at  Union  from  the  13th  to  the 
22d  of  March,  when  by  order  of  Colonel  Slough  they 
proceeded  in  the  direction  of  Santa  Fe.  The  command 
consisted  of  the  First  Colorado  Volunteers ;  two  Light 
Batteries,  one  commanded  by  Captain  Ritter  and  the 
other  by  Captain  Claflin  ;  Ford's  Company  of  Colorado 
Volunteers  unattached  ;  two  companies  of  the  Fifth  Reg- 
ular Infantry  ;  and  two  companies  of  the  Seventh  United 
States  Cavalry. 

"  The  force  encamped  at  Bernal  Springs,  where  Col- 
onel Slough  determined  to  organize  a  detachment  to 
enter  Santa  Fe  by  night  with  the  view  of  surprising  the 
enemy,  spiking  his  guns,  and  after  doing  what  other  dam- 
age could  be  accomplished  without  bringing  on  a  general 
action,  falling  back  on  the  main  body.  The  detachment 
chosen  comprised  sixty  men  each  from  Companies  A,  D, 
and  E  of  the  Colorado  regiment,  with  Company  F  of  the 
same  mounted,  and  thirty-seven  men  each  from  the  com- 
panies of  Captains  Ford  and  Howland,  and  of  the  Seventh 
Cavalry,  the  whole  commanded  by  Major  Chivington. 


196  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

At  sundown  on  the  25th  of  March  it  reached  Kosloskie's 
Ranch,  where  Major  Chivington  was  informed  that  the 
enemy's  pickets  were  in  the  vicinity.  He  went  into  camp 
at  once,  and  about  nine  o'clock  of  the  same  evening  sent 
out  Lieutenant  Nelson  of  the  First  Colorado  with  thirty 
men  of  Company  F,  who  captured  the  Texan  pickets  while 
they  were  engaged  in  a  game  of  cards  at  Pigeon's  Ranch, 
and  before  daylight  on  the  morning  of  the  26th,  reported 
at  camp  with  his  prisoners.  After  breakfast,  the  major, 
being  apprised  of  the  enemy's  whereabouts,  proceeded 
cautiously,  keeping  his  advance  guard  well  to  the  front. 
While  passing  near  the  summit  of  the  hill,  the  officer  in 
command  of  the  advance  met  the  Confederate  advance, 
consisting  of  a  first  lieutenant  and  thirty  men,  capt- 
ured them  without  firing  a  gun,  and  returning  met  the 
main  body  and  turned  them  over  to  the  commanding 
officer.  The  Confederate  lieutenant  declared  that  they 
had-  received  no  intimation  of  the  advance  from  Fort 
Union,  but  themselves  expected  to  be  there  four  days 
later. 

"  Descending  Apache  Canon  for  the  distance  of  half 
a  mile,  Chivington's  force  observed  the  approaching 
Texans,  about  six  hundred  strong,  with  three  pieces  of 
artillery,  who,  on  discovering  the  Federals,  halted,  formed 
line  and  battery,  and  opened  fire. 

"  Chivington  drew  up  his  cavalry  as  a  reserve  under 
cover,  deployed  Company  D  under  Captain  Downing  to 
the  right,  and  Companies  A  and  E  under  Captains  Wyn- 
koop  and  Anthony  to  the  left,  directing  them  to  ascend 
the  mountain-side  until  they  were  above  the  elevation  of 
the  enemy's  artilleiy  and  thus  flank  him,  at  the  same  time 
directing  Captain  Howland,  he  being  the  ranking  cavalry 
officer,  to  closely  observe  the  enemy,  and  when  he  retreated, 
without  further  orders  to  charge  with  the  cavalry.  This 
disposition  of  the  troops  proved  wise  and  successful.     The 


LA   GLORIETA  197 

Texans  soon  broke  battery  and  retreated  down  the  canon 
a  mile  or  more,  but  from  some  cause  Captain  Howland 
failed  to  charge  as  ordered,  which  enabled  the  Confed- 
erates to  take  up  a  new  and  strong  position,  where  they 
formed  battery,  threw  their  supports  well  up  the  sides  of 
the  mountain,  and  again  opened  fire. 

"  Chivington  dismounted  Captains  Howland  and  Lord 
with  their  regulars,  leaving  their  horses  in  charge  of 
every  fourth  man,  and  ordered  them  to  join  Captain  Down- 
ing on  the  left,  taking  orders  from  him.  Our  skirmishers 
advanced,  and,  flanking  the  enemy's  supjiorts,  drove  them 
pell-mell  down  the  mountain-side,  when  Captain  Samuel 
Cook,  with  Company  F,  First  Colorado,  having  been 
signalled  \>y  the  major,  made  as  gallant  and  successful  a 
charge  through  the  canon,  through  the  ranks  of  the 
Confederates  and  back,  as  was  ever  performed.  Mean- 
while, our  infantry  advanced  rapidly  ;  when  the  enemy 
commenced  his  retreat  a  second  time,  they  were  well 
ahead  of  him  on  the  mountain-sides  and  poured  a  gall- 
ing fire  into  him,  which  thoroughly  demoralized  and 
broke  him  up,  compelling  the  entire  body  to  seek  shelter 
among  the  rocks  down  the  canon  and  in  some  cabins  that 
stood  by  the  wayside. 

"  After  an  hour  spent  in  collecting  the  prisoners,  and 
caring  for  the  wounded,  both  Federal  and  Confederate, 
the  latter  having  left  in  killed,  wounded,  and  prisoners  a 
number  equal  to  our  whole  force  in  the  field,  the  first 
baptism  by  fire  of  our  volunteers  terminated.  The  vic- 
tory was  decided  and  complete.  Night  intervening,  and 
there  being  no  water  in  the  canon,  the  little  command  fell 
back  to  Pigeon's  Ranch,  whence  a  courier  was  despatched 
to  Colonel  Slough,  advising  him  of  the  engagement  and  its 
result,  and  requesting  him  to  bring  forward  the  main  com- 
mand as  rapidly  as  possible,  as  the  enemy  with  all  his 
forces  had  moved  from  Santa  Fe  toward  Fort  Union. 


198  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

"  After  interring  the  dead  and  making  a  comfortable 
hospital  for  the  wounded,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  27th 
Chivington  fell  back  to  the  Pecos  River  at  Kosloskie's 
Ranch  and  encamped.  On  receiving  the  news  from 
Apache  Canon,  Colonel  Slough  put  his  forces  in  motion, 
and  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  of  the  27th  joined  Chiving- 
ton at  Kosloskie's. 

"  At  daybreak  on  the  28th,  the  assembly  was  sounded, 
and  the  entire  command  resumed  its  march.  Five  miles 
out  from  their  encampment  Major  Chivington,  in  command 
of  a  detachment  composed  of  Companies  A,  B,  H,  and  E 
of  the  First  Colorado,  and  Captain  Ford's  Company  un- 
attached, with  Captain  Lewis'  Company  of  the  Fifth 
Regular  Infantry,  was  ordered  to  take  the  Galisteo  road, 
and  by  a  detour  through  the  mountains  to  gain  the 
enemy's  rear,  if  possible,  at  the  west  end  of  Apache 
Canon,  while  Slough  advanced  slowly  with  the  main 
body  to  gain  his  front  about  the  same  time  ;  thus  devising 
an  attack  in  front  and  rear.  ■ 

"  About  ten  o'clock,  while  making  his  way  through  the 
scrub  pine  and  cedar  brush  in  the  mountains,  Major  Chiv- 
ington and  his  command  heard  cannonading  to'their  right, 
and  were  thereby  apprised  that  Colonel  Slough  and  his 
men  had  met  the  enemy.  About  twelve  o'clock  he 
arrived  with  his  men  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
which  overlooked  the  enemy's  supply  wagons,  which  had 
been  left  in  the  charge  of  a  strong  guard  with  one  piece 
of  artillery  mounted  on  an  elevation  commanding  the 
camp  and  mouth  of  the  canon.  With  great  difficulty 
Chivington  descended  the  precipitous  mountain,  charged, 
took,  and  spiked  the  gun,  ran  together  the  enemy's  supply 
wagons  of  commissary,  quartermaster,  and  ordnance 
stores,  set  them  on  fire,  blew  and  burnt  them  up,  bayo- 
neted his  mules  in  corral,  took  the  guard  prisoners  and 
reascended  the  mountain,  where  about  dark  he  was  met 


LA   GLORIETA  199 

by  Lieutenant  Cobb,  aide-de-camp  on  Colonel  Slough's 
staff,  with  the  information  that  Slough  and  his  men  had 
been  defeated  and  had  fallen  back  to  Kosloskie's.  Upon 
the  supposition  that  this  information  was  correct,  Chiv- 
ington,  under  the  guidance  of  a  French  Catholic  priest, 
in  the  intensest  darkness,  with  great  difficulty  made  his 
wa3r  with  his  command  through  the  mountains  without  a 
road  or  trail,  and  joined  Colonel  Slough  about  midnight. 

"  Meanwhile,  after  Chivington  and  his  detachment  had 
left  in  the  morning,  Colonel  Slough  with  the  main  body 
proceeded  up  the  canon,  and  arriving  at  Pigeon's  Ranch, 
gave  orders  for  the  troops  to  stack  arms  in  the  road  and 
supply  their  canteens  with  water,  as  that  would  be  the 
last  opportunity  before  reaching  the  further  end  of 
Apache  Canon.  While  thus  supplying  themselves  with 
water  and  visiting  the  wounded  in  the  hospital  at  Pigeon's 
Ranch,  being  entirely  off  their  guard,  they  were  suddenly 
startled  by  a  courier  from  the  advance  column  dashing 
down  the  road  at  full  speed  and  informing  them  that  the 
enemy  was  close  at  hand.  Orders  were  immediately  given 
to  fall  in  and  take  arms,  but  before  the  order  could  be 
obeyed  the  enemy  had  formed  battery  and  commenced 
shelling  them.  They  formed  as  quickly  as  possible,  the 
colonel  ordering  Captain  Downing  with  Company  D, 
First  Colorado  Volunteers,  to  advance  on  the  left,  and 
Captain  Kerber  with  Company  I  First  Colorado,  to  ad- 
vance on  the  right.  In  the  meantime  Ritter  and  Claflin 
opened  a  return  fire  on  the  enemy  with  their  batteries. 
Captain  Downing  advanced  and  fought  desperately,  meet- 
ing a  largely  superior  force  in  point  of  numbers,  until  he 
was  almost  overpowered  and  surrounded  ;  when,  happily, 
Captain  Wilder  of  Company  G  of  the  First  Colorado, 
with  a  detachment  of  his  command,  came  to  his  relief,  and 
extricated  him  and  that  portion  of  his  Compan}1-  not  al- 
ready slaughtered.     While  on  the  opposite  side,  the  right, 


200  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Company  I  had  advanced  into  an  open  space,  feeling  the 
enemy,  and  ambitious  of  capturing  his  battery,  when  they 
were  surprised  by  a  detachment  which  was  concealed  in 
an  arroya,  and  which,  when  Kerber  and  his  men  were 
within  forty  feet  of  it,  opened  a  galling  fire  upon  them. 
Kerber  lost  heavily ;  Lieutenant  Baker,  being  wounded, 
fell  back.  In  the  meantime  the  enemy  masked,  and  made 
five  successive  charges  on  our  batteries,  determined  to 
capture  them  as  they  had  captured  Canby's  at  Valverde. 
At  one  time  they  were  within  forty  yards  of  Slough's  bat- 
teries, their  slouch  hats  drawn  down  over  their  faces,  and 
rushing  on  with  deafening  yells.  It  seemed  inevitable 
that  they  would  make  the  capture,  when  Captain  Claflin 
gave  the  order  to  cease  firing,  and  Captain  Samuel  Rob- 
bins  with  his  company,  K  of  the  First  Colorado,  arose 
from  the  ground  like  ghosts,  delivering  a  galling  fire, 
charged  bayonets,  and  on  the  double-quick  put  the  rebels 
to  flight. 

"  During  the  whole  of  this  time  the  cavalry,  under  Cap- 
tain Howland,  were  held  in  reserve,  never  moving  except 
to  fall  back  and  keep  out  of  danger,  with  the  exception  of 
Captain  Cook's  men,  who  dismounted  and  fought  as  in- 
fantry. From  the  opening  of  the  battle  to  its  close  the 
odds  were  against  Colonel  Slough  and  his  forces ;  the 
enemy  being  greatly  superior  in  numbers,  with  a  better 
armament  of  artillery  and  equally  well  armed  otherwise. 
But  every  inch  of  ground  was  stubbornly  contested.  In 
no  instance  did  Slough's  forces  fall  back  until  they  were 
in  danger  of  being  flanked  and  surrounded,  and  for  nine 
hours,  without  rest  or  refreshment,  the  battle  raged  inces- 
santly. At  one  time  Claflin  gave  orders  to  double-shot 
his  guns,  they  being  nothing  but  little  brass  how- 
itzers, and  he  counted,  '  One,  two,  three,  four,'  until  one 
of  his  own  carriages  capsized  and  fell  down  into  the 
gulch  ;    from  which  place  Captain  Samuel    Robbins  and 


LA   GLORIETA 


201 


his  company,  K,  extricated  it  and  saved  it  from  falling 
into  the  enemy's  hands. 

"  Having  been  compelled  to  give  ground  all  day,  Colonel 
Slough,  between  five  and  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
issued  orders  to  retreat.  About  the  same  time  General 
Sibley  received  information  from  the  rear  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  supply  trains,  and  ordered  a  flag  of  truce  to  be 
sent  to  Colonel  Slough,  which  did  not  reach  him,  however, 
until  he  arrived  at  Kosloskie's.  A  truce  was  entered  into 
until  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning,  which  was  afterward 
extended  to  twenty-four  hours,  and  under  which  Sibley 
with  his  demoralized  forces  fell  back  to  Santa  Fe,  laying 
that  town  under  tribute  to  supply  his  forces. 

"  The  29th  was  spent  in  burying  the  dead,  as  Avell  as 
those  of  the  Confederates  which  they  left  on  the  field,  and 
caring  for  the  wounded.  Orders  were  received  from  Gen- 
eral Canby  directing  Colonel  Slough  to  fall  back  to  Fort 
Union,  which  so  incensed  him  that  while  obeying  the  order 
he  forwarded  his  resignation,  and  soon  after  left  the  com- 
mand." 

Thus  ended  the  battle  of  La  Glorieta. 


ylpacfc  Grnon     v 


CHAPTER   XII1 

THE     ANCIENT     RANGE     OF      THE     BUFFALO NUMBER     SLAUGH- 
TERED     IN     THIRTEEN     YEARS     FOR     THEIR      ROBES      ALONE 

BUFFALO  BONES TRAINS  STOPPED  BY  VAST  HERDS  CUS- 
TOM OF  OLD  HUNTERS  WHEN  CAUGHT  IN  A  BLIZZARD AN- 
ECDOTES    OF     BUFFALO     HUNTING KIT     CARSON'S     DILEMMA 

EXPERIENCE    OF   TWO  OF    FREMONT'S    HUNTERS WOUNDED 

BUFFALO  BULL  o'NEIL's  LAUGHABLE  EXPERIENCE OR- 
GANIZATION     OF       A      HERD       OF       BUFFALO  STAMPEDES  

THRILLING    ESCAPES 


Buffd/o     jf7?0!  "j^m^mH^.  1^^  ancient  range  of   the 

buffalo,  according  to  his- 
tory  and  tradition,   once 
extended  from  the  Alle- 
ghanies    to    the     Rocky 
Mountains,  embracing  all 
that  magnificent  portion 
of    North   America    known    as    the 
Mississippi  valley  ;  from  the  frozen 
lakes  above  to  the  "  Tierras  Cali- 
entes "  of   Mexico,  far  to   the 
south. 

It  seems  impossible,  espe- 
^j^^;'  cially  to  those  who  have 

%fMM)l\     seen  them,  as  numerous, 
apparently,  as  the  sands 
of  the  seashore,  feeding  on  the  illimitable  natural  past- 

1  The  greater  portion  of  this  chapter  I  originally  wrote  for  Harper's 
Weekly.  By  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  I  am  permitted  to  use 
it  here. 

202 


THE   BUFFALO  203 

ures  of  the  great  plains,  that  the  buffalo  should  have 
become  almost  extinct. 

When  I  look  back  only  twenty -five  years,  and  recall 
the  fact  that  they  roamed  in  immense  numbers  even  then, 
as  far  east  as  Fort  Harker,  in  Central  Kansas,  a  little  more 
than  two  hundred  miles  from  the  Missouri  River,  I  ask 
myself,  "  Have  they  all  disappeared?" 

An  idea  may  be  formed  of  how  many  buffalo  were  killed 
from  1868  to  1881,  a  period  of  only  thirteen  years,  during 
which  time  they  were  indiscriminately  slaughtered  for 
their  hides.  In  Kansas  alone  there  was  paid  out,  between 
the  dates  specified,  two  million  five  hundred  thousand  dollars 
for  their  bones  gathered  on  the  prairies,  to  be  utilized  by 
the  various  carbon  works  of  the  country,  principally  in 
St.  Louis.  It  required  about  one  hundred  carcasses  to 
make  one  ton  of  bones,  the  price  paid  averaging  eight  dol- 
lars a  ton  ;  so  the  above-quoted  enormous  sum  represented 
the  skeletons  of  over  thirty-one  millions  of  buffalo.1  These 
figures  may  appear  preposterous  to  readers  not  familiar  with 
the  great  plains  a  third  of  a  century  ago  ;  but  to  those  who 
have  seen  the  prairie  black  from  horizon  to  horizon  with 
the  shaggy  monsters,  they  are  not  so.  In  the  autumn  of 
1868  I  rode  with  Generals  Sheridan,  Custer,  Sully,  and 
others,  for  three  consecutive  days,  through  one  contin- 
uous herd,  which  must  have  contained  millions.  In  the 
spring  of  1869  the  train  on  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad 
was  delayed  at  a  point  between  Forts  Harker  and  Hays, 
from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  five  in  the  after- 
noon, in  consequence  of  the  passage  of  an  immense  herd  of 
buffalo  across  the  track.     On  each  side  of  us,  and  to  the 

1  These  statistics  I  have  carefully  gathered  from  the  freight  departments 
of  the  railroads,  which  kept  a  record  of  all  the  bones  that  were  shipped, 
and  from  the  purchasers  of  the  carbon  works,  who  paid  out  the  money  at 
various  points.  Some  of  the  bones,  however,  may  have  been  on  the 
ground  for  a  longer  time,  as  decay  is  very  slow  in  the  dry  air  of  the 
plains. 


204  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

west  as  far  as  we  could  see,  our  vision  was  only  limited  by 
the  extended  horizon  of  the  fiat  prairie,  and  the  whole 
vast  area  was  black  with  the  surging  mass  of  affrighted 
buffaloes  as  they  rushed  onward  to  the  south. 

In  1868  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  and  its  branch  in 
Kansas  was  nearly  completed  across  the  plains  to  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  western  limit  of  the 
buffalo  range,  and  that  year  witnessed  the  beginning  of 
the  wholesale  and  wanton  slaughter  of  the  great  rumi- 
nants, which  ended  only  with  their  practical  extinction 
seventeen  years  afterward.  The  causes  of  this  hecatomb 
of  animals  on  the  great  plains  were  the  incursion  of  regular 
hunters  into  the  region,  for  -the  hides  of  the  buffalo,  and 
the  crowds  of  tourists  who  crossed  the  continent  for  the 
mere  pleasure  and  novelty  of  the  trip.  The  latter  class 
heartlessly  killed  for  the  excitement  of  the  new  experi- 
ence as  they  rode  along  in  the  cars  at  a  low  rate  of  speed, 
often  never  touching  a  particle  of  the  flesh  of  their  vic- 
tims, or  possessing  themselves  of  a  single  robe.  The 
former,  numbering  hundreds  of  old  frontiersmen,  all  ex- 
pert shots,  with  thousands  of  novices,  the  pioneer  settlers 
on  the  public  domain,  just  opened  under  the  various  land 
laws,  from  beyond  the  Platte  to  far  south  of  the  Arkansas, 
within  transporting  distance  of  two  railroads,  day  after 
day  for  years  made  it  a  lucrative  business  to  kill  for  the 
robes  alone,  a  market  for  which  had  suddenly  sprung  up 
all  over  the  country. 

On  either  side  of  the  track  of  the  two  lines  of  rail- 
roads running  through  Kansas  and  Nebraska,  within  a 
relatively  short  distance  and  for  nearly  their  whole  length, 
the  most  conspicuous  objects  in  those  days  were  the 
desiccated  carcasses  of  the  noble  beasts  that  had  been 
ruthlessly  slaughtered  by  the  thoughtless  and  excited 
passengers  on  their  way  across  the  continent.  On  the  open 
prairie,   too,  miles    away  from    the    course   of   legitimate 


THE   BUFFALO  205 

travel,  in  some  places  one  could  walk  all  day  on  the  dead 
bodies  of  the  buffaloes  killed  by  the  hide-hunters,  with- 
out stepping  off  them  to  the  ground. 

The  best  robes,  in  their  relation  to  thickness  of  fur  and 
lustre,  were  those  taken  during  the  winter  months,  partic- 
ularly February,  at  which  period  the  maximum  of  density 
and  beauty  had  been  reached.  Then,  notwithstanding 
the  sudden  and  fitful  variations  of  temperature  incident 
to  our  mid-continent  climate,  the  old  hunters  were  espe- 
cially active,  and  accepted  unusual  risks  to  procure  as 
many  of  the  coveted  skins  as  possible.  A  temporary 
camp  would  be  established  under  the  friendly  shelter  of 
some  timbered  stream,  from  which  the  hunters  would 
radiate  every  morning,  and  return  at  night  after  an  ar- 
duous day's  work,  to  smoke  their  pipes  and  relate  their 
varied  adventures  around  the  fire  of  blazing  logs. 

Sometimes  when  far  aAvay  from  camp  a  blizzard  would 
come  down  from  the  north  in  all  its  fury  without  ten 
minutes'  warning,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  air,  full  of 
blinding  snow,  precluded  the  possibility  of  finding  their 
shelter,  an  attempt  at  which  would  only  result  in  an 
aimless  circular  march  on  the  prairie.  On  such  occasions, 
to  keep  from  perishing  by  the  intense  cold,  they  would 
kill  a  buffalo,  and,  taking  out  its  viscera,  creep  inside  the 
huge  cavity,  enough  animal  heat  being  retained  until  the 
storm  had  sufficiently  abated  for  them  to  proceed  with 
safety  to  their  camp. 

Early  in  March,  1867,  a  party  of  my  friends,  all  old 
buffalo  hunters,  were  camped  in  Paradise  valley,  then  a 
.  famous  rendezvous  of  the  animals  they  were  after.  One 
day  when  out  on  the  range  stalking,  and  widely  separated 
from  each  other,  a  terrible  blizzard  came  up.  Three  of 
the  hunters  reached  their  camp  without  much  difficulty, 
but  he  who  was  farthest  away  was  fairly  caught  in  it, 
and  night  overtaking  him,  he  was  compelled  to  resort  to 


206 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


the  method  described  in  the  preceding  paragraph.  Luck- 
ily, he  soon  came  up  with  a  superannuated  bull  that  had 
been  abandoned  by  the  herd;  so  he  killed  him,  took  out 
his  viscera  and  crawled  inside  the  empty  carcass,  where 
he    lay   comparatively   comfortable   until  morning  broke, 

when  the  storm  had  passed  over 
and  the  sun  shone  brightly. 
But  when  he  attempted  to  get 
out,  he  found  himself  a  prisoner, 
the  immense  ribs  of  the  creature 
having  frozen  together,  and 
locked  him  up  as  tightly  as  if 
he  were  in  a  cell.  Fortunately, 
his  companions,  who  were  search- 
ing for  him,  and  firing  their 
rifles  from  time  to  time,  heard 
him  yell  in  response  to  the  dis- 
charge of  their  pieces,  and  thus 
discovered  and  released  him 
from  the  peculiar  predicament 
into  which  he  had  fallen. 

At  another  time,  several  years 
before   the   acquisition   of   New 
Mexico    by    the    United 
-t  j-    States,  two  old  trappers 
"S^jf"  were  far  up  on  the  Arkan- 

An  Old-time  Hunter  sas  near  the  Trail,  in  the 

foot-hills  hunting  buffalo, 
and  they,  as  is  generally  the  case,  became  separated.  In  an 
hour  or  two  one  of  them  killed  a  fat  young  cow,  and,  leav- 
ing his  rifle  on  the  ground,  went  up  and  commenced  to  skin 
her.  While  busily  engaged  in  his  work,  he  suddenly  heard 
right  behind  him  a  suppressed  snort,  and  looking  around 
he  saw  to  his  dismay  a  monstrous  grizzly  ambling  along  in 
that  animal's  characteristic  gait,  within  a  few  feet  of  him. 


THE   BUFFALO  207 

In  front,  only  a  few  rods  away,  there  happened  to  be  a 
clump  of  scrubby  pines,  and  he  incontinently  made  a 
break  for  them,  climbing  into  the  tallest  in  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  tell  of  it.  The  bear  deliberately  ate  a  hearty 
meal  off  the  juicy  hams  of  the  cow,  so  providentially  fal- 
len in  his  way,  and  when  he  had  satiated  himself,  instead 
of  going  away,  he  quietly  stretched  himself  alongside  of  the 
half-devoured  carcass,  and  went  to  sleep,  keeping  one  eye 
open,  however,  on  the  movements  of  the  unlucky  hunter 
whom  he  had  corralled  in  the  tree.  In  the  early  evening 
his  partner  came  to  the  spot,  and  killed  the  impudent  bear, 
that,  being  full  of _  tender  buffalo  meat,  was  sluggish  and 
unwary,  and  thus  became  an  easy  victim  to  the  unerring 
rifle  ;  when  the  unwilling  prisoner  came  down  from  his 
perch  in  the  pine,  feeling  sheepish  enough.  The  last  time 
I  saw  him  he  told  me  he  still  had  the  bear's  hide,  which 
he  religiously  preserved  as  a  memento  of  his  foolishness 
in  separating  himself  from  his  rifle,  a  thing  he  has  never 
been  guilty  of  before  or  since. 

Kit  Carson,  when  with  Fremont  on  his  first  exploring 
expedition,  while  hunting  for  the  command,  at  some  point 
on  the  Arkansas,  left  a  buffalo  which  he  had  just  killed 
and  partly  cut  up,  to  pursue  a  large  bull  that  came  rush- 
ing by  him  alone.  He  chased  his  game  for  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile,  not  being  able,  however,  to  gain  on  it  rap- 
idly, owing  to  the  blown  condition  of  his  horse.  Coming 
up  at  length  to  the  side  of  the  fleeing  beast,  Carson  fired, 
but  at  the  same  instant  his  horse  stepped  into  a  prairie- 
dog  hole,  fell  clown  and  threw  Kit  fully  fifteen  feet  over 
his  head.  The  bullet  struck  the  buffalo  low  under  the 
shoulder,  which  only  served  to  enrage  him  so  that  the 
next  moment  the  infuriated  animal  was  pursuing  Kit, 
who,  fortunately  not  much  hurt,  was  able  to  run  toward 
the  river.  It  was  a  race  for  life  now,  Carson  using  his 
nimble  legs  to  the  utmost  of  their  capacity,  accelerated 


208  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

very  much  by  the  thundering,  bellowing  bull  bringing 
up  the  rear.  For  several  minutes  it  was  nip  and  tuck 
which  should  reach  the  stream  first,  but  Kit  got  there 
by  a  scratch  a  little  ahead.  It  was  a  big  bend  of  the 
river,  and  the  water  was  deep  under  the  bank,  but  it  was 
paradise  compared  with  the  hades  plunging  at  his  back ; 
so  Kit  leaped  into  the  water,  trusting  to  Providence  that 
the  bull  would  not  follow.  The  trust  was  well  placed,  for 
the  bull  did  not  continue  the  pursuit,  but  stood  on  the 
bank  and  shook  his  head  vehemently  at  the  struggling 
hunter  who  had  preferred  deep  waves  to  the  horns  of  a 
dilemma  on  shore. 

Kit  swam  around  for  some  time,  carefully  guarded  by 
the  bull,  until  his  position  was  observed  by  one  of  his 
companions,  who  attacked  the  belligerent  animal  success- 
fully with  a  forty-four  slug,  and  then  Kit  crawled  out 
and  —  skinned  the  enemy! 

He  once  killed  five  buffaloes  during  a  single  race, 
and  used  but  four  balls,-  having  dismounted  and  cut 
the  bullet  from  the  wound  of  the  fourth,  and  thus  con- 
tinued the  chase.  He  it  was,  too,  who  established  his 
reputation  as  a  famous  hunter  by  shooting  a  buffalo  cow 
during  an  impetuous  race  down  a  steep  hill,  discharging 
his  rifle  just  as  the  animal  was  leaping  on  one  of  the  low 
cedars  peculiar  to  the  region.  The  ball  struck  a  vital 
spot,  and  the  dead  cow  remained  in  the  jagged  branches. 
The  Indians  who  were  with  him  on  that  hunt  looked  upon 
the  circumstance  as  something  beyond  their  comprehen- 
sion, and  insisted  that  Kit  should  leave  the  carcass  in  the 
tree  as  "Big  Medicine."  Katzatoa  (Smoked  Shield),  a 
celebrated  chief  of  the  Kiowas  many  years  ago,  who  was 
over  seven  feet  tall,  never  mounted  a  horse  when  hunting 
the  buffalo  ;  he  always  ran  after  them  on  foot  and  killed 
them  with  his  lance. 

Two  Lance,  another  famous  chief,  could  shoot  an  arrow 


210  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE   TRAIL 

surprise,  when,  to  their  great  consternation,  they  beheld 
the  whole  company  of  the  monsters,  numbering  several 
thousand,  suddenly  shape  their  course  to  where  the  riding 
animals  were  picketed.  The  charge  of  the  stampeded 
buffalo  was  a  magnificent  one ;  for  the  buffalo,  mistak- 
ing the  horse  and  the  mule  for  two  of  their  own  species, 
came  down  upon  them  like  a  tornado.  A  small  cloud 
of  dust  arose  for  a  moment  over  the  spot  where  the  hun- 
ter's animals  had  been  left ;  the  black  mass  moved  on 
with  accelerated  speed,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  hori- 
zon shut  them  all  from  view.  The  horse  and  mule, 
with  all  their  trappings,  saddles,  bridles,  and  holsters, 
were  never  seen  or  heard  of  afterward. 

Buffalo  Bill,  in  less  than  eighteen  months,  while  em- 
ployed as  hunter  of  the  construction  company  of  the 
Kansas  Pacific  Railroad,  in  1867-68,  killed  nearly  five 
thousand  buffalo,  which  were  consumed  hy  the  twelve 
hundred  men  employed  in  track-laying.  He  tells  in  his 
autobiography  of  the  following  remarkable  experience  he 
had  at  one  time  with  his  favourite  horse  Brigham,  on  an 
impromptu  buffalo  hunt :  — 

"  One  day  we  were  pushed  for  horses  to  work  on  our 
scrapers,  so  I  hitched  up  Brigham,  to  see  how  he  would 
work.  He  was  not  much  used  to  that  kind  of  labour,  and 
I  was  about  giving  up  the  idea  of  making  a  work  horse  of 
him,  when  one  of  the  men  called  to  me  that  there  were 
some  buffaloes  coining  over  the  hill.  As  there  had  been 
no  buffaloes  seen  anywhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp  for 
several  days,  we  had  become  rather  short  of  meat.  I  im- 
mediately told  one  of  our  men  to  hitch  his  horses  to  a 
wagon  and  follow  me,  as  I  was  going  out  after  the  herd, 
and  Ave  would  bring  back  some  fresh  meat  for  supper.  I 
had  no  saddle,  as  mine  had  been  left  at  camp  a  mile  dis- 
tant, so  taking  the  harness  from  Brigham  I  mounted  him 
bareback,  and  started  out  after  the  game,  being  armed  with 


THE    BUFFALO  211 

my  celebrated  buffalo'  killer  Lucretia  Borgia,  —  a,  newly 
improved  breech-loading  needle-gun,  which  I  had  obtained 
from  the  government. 

"  While  I  was  riding  toward  the  buffaloes,  I  observed 
five  horsemen  coming  out  from  the  fort,  who  had  evi- 
dently seen  the  buffaloes  from  the  post,  and  were  going 
out  for  a  chase.  They  proved  to  be  some  newly  arrived 
officers  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  when  they  came 
up  closer  I  could  see  by  the  shoulder-straps  that  the 
senior  was  a  captain,  while  the  others  were  lieutenants. 

"  '  Hello  !  my  friend,'  sang  out  the  captain ;  '  I  see  you 
are  after  the  same  game  we  are.' 

"  '  Yes,  sir  ;  I  saw  those  buffaloes  coming  over  the  hill, 
and  as  we  were  about  out  of  fresh  meat  I  thought  I  would 
go  and  get  some,'  said  I. 

"  They  scanned  my  cheap-looking  outfit  pretty  closely, 
and  as  my  horse  was  not  very  prepossessing  in  appearance, 
having  on  only  a  blind  bridle,  and  otherwise  looking  like 
a  work  horse,  they  evidently  considered  me  a  green  hand 
at  hunting. 

"  '  Do  you  expect  to  catch  those  buffaloes  on  that  Gothic 
steed  ?  '  laughingly  asked  the  captain. 

" '  I  hope  so,  by  pushing  on  the  reins  hard  enough,'  was 
my  reply. 

"  '  You'll  never  catch  them  in  the  world,  my  fine  fellow,' 
said  the  captain.  '  It  requires  a  fast  horse  to  overtake 
the  animals  on  the  prairie.' 

"  '  Does  it  ?  '  asked  I,  as  if  I  didn't  know  it. 

"  i  Yes;  but  come  along  with  us,  as  we  are  going  to  kill 
them  more  for  pleasure  than  anything  else.  All  we  want 
are  the  tongues  and  a  piece  of  tenderloin,  and  you  may 
have  all  that  is  left,:  said  the  generous  man. 

" '  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  captain,  and  will  follow 
you,'  I  replied. 

"  There  were  eleven   buffaloes  in  the   herd,  and    they 


212  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

were  not  more  than  a  mile  ahead  of  us.  The  officers 
dashed  on  as  if  they  had  a  sure  thing  on  killing  them  all 
before  I  could  come  up  with  them  ;  but  I  had  noticed 
that  the  herd  was  making  toward  the  creek  for  water, 
and  as  I  knew  buffalo  nature,  I  was  perfectly  aware  that 
it  would  be  difficult  to  turn  them  from  their  direct  course. 
Thereupon,  I  started  toward  the  creek ,  to  head  them  off, 
while  the  officers  came  up  in  the  rear  and  gave  chase. 

"The  buffaloes  came  rushing  past  me  not  a  hundred 
yards  distant,  with  the  officers  about  three  hundred  yards 
in  the  rear.  Now,  thought'  I,  is  the  time  to  '  get  my  work 
in,'  as  they  say  ;  and  I  pulled  off  the  blind  bridle  from  my 
horse,  who  knew  as  well  as  I  did  that  we  were  out  after 
buffaloes,  as  he  was  a  trained  hunter.  The  moment  the 
bridle  was  off  he  started  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  running 
in  ahead  of  the  officers,  and  with  a  few  jumps  he  brought 
me  alongside  the  rear  buffalo.  Raising  old  Lucretia 
Borgia  to  my  shoulder,  I  fired,  and  killed  the  animal  at 
the  first  shot.  My  horse  then  carried  me  alongside  the 
next  one,  not  ten  feet  away,  and  I  dropped  him  at  the 
next  fire. 

"  As  soon  as  one  of  the  buffalo  would  fall,  Brigham 
would  take  me  so  close  to  the  next  that  I  could  almost 
touch  it  with  my  gun.  In  this  manner  I  killed  the  eleven 
buffaloes  with  twelve  shots ;  and  as  the  last  animal 
dropped,  my  horse  stopped.  I  jumped  off  to  the  ground, 
knowing  that  he  would  not  leave  me,  —  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  I  had  been  riding  him  without  bridle, 
reins,  or  saddle,  —  and,  turning  around  as  the  party  of 
astonished  officers  rode  up,  I  said  to  them  :  — 

" '  Now,  gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  all  the 
tongues  and  tenderloins  you  wish  from  these  buffaloes.' 

"  Captain  Graham,  for  such  I  soon  learned  was  his 
name,  replied  :  '  Well,  I  never  saw  the  like  before. 
Who  under  the  sun  are  you,  anyhow  ? ' 


THE   BUFFALO  21ii 

"  '  My  name  is  Cod}','  said  I. 

"  Captain  Graham,  who  was  considerable  of  a  horse- 
man, greatly  admired  Brigham,  and  said  :  '  That  horse 
of  yours  has  running  points.' 

" '  Yes,  sir  ;  he  has  not  only  got  the  points,  he  is  a 
runner  and  knows  how  to  use  the  points,'  said  I. 

"  '  So  I  noticed,'  said  the  captain. 

"  They  all  finally  dismounted,  and  we  continued  chat- 
ting for  some  little  time  upon  the  different  subjects  oi 
horses,  buffaloes,  hunting,  and  Indians.  They  felt  a  little 
sore  at  not  getting  a  single  shot  at  the  buffaloes ;  but  the 
way  I  had  killed  them,  they  said,  amply  repaid  them  for 
their  disappointment.  They  had  read  of  such  feats  in 
books,  but  this  was  the  first  time  they  had  ever  seen  any- 
thing of  the  kind  with  their  own  eyes.  It  was  the  first 
time,  also,  that  they  had  ever  witnessed  or  heard  of  a 
white  man  running  buffaloes  on  horseback  without  a 
saddle  or  bridle. 

"  I  told  them  that  Brigham  knew  nearly  as  much  about 
the  business  as  I  did,  and  if  I  had  twenty  bridles  they 
would  have  been  of  no  use  to  me,  as  he  understood  every- 
thing, and  all  that  he  expected  of  me  was  to  do  the  shoot- 
ing. It  is  a  fact  that  Brigham  would  stop  if  a  buffalo  did 
not  fall  at  the  first  fire,  so  as  to  give  me  a  second  chance  ; 
but  if  I  did  not  kill  the  animal  then,  he  would  go  on,  as 
if  to  say,  '  You  are  no  good,  and  I  will  not  fool  away  my 
time  by  giving  you  more  than  two  shots.'  Brigham  was 
the  best  horse  I  ever  saw  or  owned  for  buffalo  chasing." 

At  one  time  an  old,  experienced  buffalo  hunter  was 
following  at  the  heels  of  a  small  herd  with  that  reckless 
rush  to  which  in  the  excitement  of  the  chase  men  aban- 
don themselves,  when  a  great  bull  just  in  front  of  him 
tumbled  into  a  ravine.  The  rider's  horse  fell  also,  throw- 
ing the  old  hunter  over  his  head  sprawling,  but  with 
strange  accuracy  right  between  the   bull's    horns  !     The 


214  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

first  to  recover  from  the  terrible  shock  and  to  regain  his 
legs  was  the  horse,  which  ran  off  with  wonderful  alacrity 
several  miles  before  he  stopped.  Next  the  bull  rose,  and 
shook  himself  with  an  astonished  air,  as  if  he  would  like 
to  know  "how  that  was  done?"  The  hunter  was  on  the 
great  brute's  back,  who,  perhaps,  took  the  affair  as  a  good 
practical  joke ;  but  he  was  soon  pitched  to  the  ground,  as 
the  buffalo  commenced  to  jump  "  stiff-legged,"  and  the 
fetter,  giving  the  hunter  one  lingering  look,  which  he 
long  remembered,  with  remarkable  good  nature  ran  off 
to  join  his  companions.  Had  the  bull  been  wounded, 
the  rider  would  have  been  killed,  as  the  then  enraged 
animal  would  have  gored  and  trampled  him  to  death. 

An  officer  of  the  old  regular  army  told  me  many  years 
ago  that  in  crossing  the  plains  a  herd  of  buffalo  were 
fired  at  by  a  twelve-pound  howitzer,  the  ball  of  which 
wounded  and  stunned  an  immense  bull.  Nevertheless, 
heedless  of  a  hundred  shots  that  had  been  fired  at  him, 
and  of  a  bulldog  belonging  to  one  of  the  officers,  which 
had  fastened  himself  to  his  lips,  the  enraged  beast  charged 
upon  the  whole  troop  of  dragoons,  and  tossed  one  of  the 
horses  like  a  feather.  Bull,  horse,  and  rider  all  fell  in  a 
heap.  Before  the  dust  cleared  away,  the  trooper,  who  had 
hung  for  a  moment  to  one  of  the  bull's  horns  by  his  waist- 
band, crawled  out  safe,  while  the  horse  got  a  ball  from  a 
rifle  through  his  neck  wdrile  in  the  air  and  two  great  rips 
in  his  flank  from  the  bull. 

In  1839  Kit  Carson  and  Hobbs  were  trapping  with  a 
party  on  the  Arkansas  River,  not  far  from  Bent's  Fort. 
Among  the  trappers  was  a  green  Irishman,  named  O'Neil, 
who  was  quite  anxious  to  become  proficient  in  limiting, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  he  received  his  first  lesson. 
Every  man  who  went  out  of  camp  after  game  was  ex- 
pected to  bring  in  "  meat  "  of  some  kind.  O'Neil  said 
that    he    would    agree    to   the  terms,  and  was  ready  one 


THE    BUFFALO  215 

evening  to  start  out  on  his  first  hunt  alone.  He  picked 
up  his  rifle  and  stalked  after  a  small  herd  of  buffalo  in 
plain  sight  on  the  prairie  not  more  than  five  or  six 
hundred  yards  from  camp. 

All  the  trappers  who  were  not  engaged  in  setting  their 
traps  or  cooking  supper  were  watching  0"Neil.  Presently 
they  heard  the  report  of  his  rifle,  and  shortly  after  he  came 
running  into  camp,  bareheaded,  without  his  gun,  and  with 
a  buffalo  bull  close  upon  his  heels ;  both  going  at  full 
speed,  and  the  Irishman  shouting  like  a  madman,  — 

"  Here  we  come,  by  jabers.  Stop  us !  For  the  love  of 
God,  stop  us  !  " 

Just  as  they  came  in  among  the  tents,  with  the  bull 
not  more  than  six  feet  in  the  rear  of  O'Neil,  who  was 
frightened  out  of  his  wits  and  puffing  like  a  locomotive, 
his  foot  caught  in  a  tent-rope,  and  over  he  went  into  a 
puddle  of  water  head  foremost,  and  in  his  fall  capsized 
several  camp-kettles,  some  of  which  contained  the  trap- 
pers' supper.  But  the  buffalo  did  not  escape  so  easily ; 
for  Hobbs  and  Kit  Carson  jumped  for  their  rifles,  and 
dropped  the  animal  before  he  had  done  any  further 
damage. 

The  whole  outfit  laughed  heartily  at  O'Neil  when  he 
got  up  out  of  the  water,  for  a  party  of  old  trappers  would 
show  no  mercy  to  any  of  their  companions  who  met  with 
a  mishap  of  that  character  ;  but  as  he  stood  there  with 
dripping  clothes  and  face  covered  with  mud,  his  mother- 
wit  came  to  his  relief  and  he  declared  he  had  accomplished 
the  hunter's  task  :  "For  sure,"  said  he,  "haven't  I  fetched 
the  mate  into  camp?  and  there  was  no  bargain  whether 
it  should  be  dead  or  alive  !  " 

Upon  Kit's  asking  O'Neil  where  his  gun  was,  — 

"  Sure,"  said  he,  "that's  more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

Next  morning  Carson  and  Hobbs  took  up  O'Neil's 
tracks  and    the    buffalo's,  and   after  hunting  an  hour  or 


216  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

so  found  the  Irishman's  rifle,  though  he  had  little  use  for 
it  afterward,  as  he  preferred  to  cook  and  help  around  camp 
rather  than  expose  his  precious  life  fighting  buffaloes. 

A  great  herd  of  buffaloes  on  the  plains  in  the  early- 
days,  when  one  could  approach  near  enough  without  dis- 
turbing it  to  quietly  watch  its  organization  and  the  ap- 
parent discipline  which  its  leaders  seemed  to  exact,  was 
a  very  curious  sight.  Among  the  striking  features  of  the 
spectacle  was  the  ajiparently  uniform  manner  in  which  the 
immense  mass  of  shaggy  animals  moved ;  there  was  con- 
stancy of  action  indicating  a  degree  of  intelligence  to  be 
found  only  in  the  most  intelligent  of  the  brute  creation. 
Frequently  the  single  herd  was  broken  up  into  many 
smaller  ones,  that  travelled  relatively  close  together,  each 
led  by  an  independent  master.  Perhaps  a  few  rods  only 
marked  the  dividing-line  between  them,  but  it  was  always 
unmistakably  plain,  and  each  moved  sjmchronously  in  the 
direction  in  which  all  were  going. 

The  leadership  of  a  herd  was  attained  only  by  hard 
struggles  for  the  place  ;  once  reached,  however,  the  victor 
was  immediately  recognized,  and  kept  his  authority  until 
some  new  aspirant  overcame  him,  or  he  became  super- 
annuated and  was  driven  out  of  the  herd  to  meet  his 
inevitable  fate,  a  prey,  to  those  ghouls  of  the  desert,  the 
gray  wolves. 

In  the  event  of  a  stampede,  every  animal  of  the  sepa- 
rate, yet  consolidated,  herds  rushed  off  together,  as  if  they 
had  all  gone  mad  at  once ;  for  the  buffalo,  like  the  Texas 
steer,  mule,  or  domestic  horse,  stampedes  on  the  slightest 
provocation ;  frequently  without  any  assignable  cause. 
The  simplest  affair,  sometimes,  will  start  the  whole  herd ; 
a  prairie-dog  barking  at  the  entrance  to  his  burrow,  a 
shadow  of  one  of  themselves  or  that  of  a  passing  cloud, 
is  sufficient  to  make  them  run  for  miles  as  if  a  real  and 
dangerous  enemy  were  at  their  heels. 


THE   BUFFALO  217 

Like  an  army,  a  herd  of  buffaloes  put  out  vedettes  to 
give  the  alarm  in  case  anything  beyond  the  ordinary 
occurred.  These  sentinels  were  always  to  be  seen  in 
groups  of  four,  five,  or  even  six,  at  some  distance  from 
the  main  body.  When  they  perceived  something  ap- 
proaching that  the  herd  should  beware  of  or  get  away 
from,  they  started  on  a  run  directly  for  the  centre  of  the 
great  mass  of  their  peacefully  grazing  congeners.  Mean- 
while, the  young  bulls  were  on  duty  as  sentinels  on  the 
edge  of  the  main  herd  watching  the  vedettes ;  the  mo- 
ment the  latter  made  for  the  centre,  the  former  raised 
their  heads,  and  in  the  peculiar  manner  of  their  spe- 
cies gazed  all  around  and  sniffed  the  air  as  if  they  could 
smell  both  the  direction  and  source  of  the  impending 
danger.  Should  there  be  something  which  their  instinct 
told  them  to  guard  against,  the  leader  took  his  position 
in  front,  the  cows  and  calves  crowded  in  the  centre, 
while  the  rest  of  the  males  gathered  on  the  flanks  and  in 
the  rear,  indicating  a  gallantry  that  might  be  emulated 
at  times  by  the  genus  homo. 

Generally  "buffalo  went  to  their  drinking-places  but  once 
a  day,  and  that  late  in  the  afternoon.  Then  they  ambled 
along,  following  each  other  in  single  file,  which  accounts 
for  the  many  trails  on  the  plains,  always  ending  at  some 
stream  or  lake.  They  frequently  travelled  twenty  or 
thirty  miles  for  water,  so  the  trails  leading  to  it  were 
often  worn  to  the  depth  of  a  foot  or  more. 

That  curious  depression  so  frequently  seen  on  the  great 
plains,  called  a  buffalo-wallow,  is  caused  in  this  wise  : 
The  huge  animals  paw  and  lick  the  salty,  alkaline  earth,  and 
when  once  the  sod  is  broken  the  loose  dirt  drifts  away 
under  the  constant  action  of  the  wind.  Then,  year  after 
year,  through  more  pawing,  licking,  rolling,  and  wallow- 
ing by  the  animals,  the  wind  wafts  more  of  the  soil  away, 
and  soon  there  is  a  considerable  hole  in  the  prairie. 


218  THE   OLD    SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Many  an  old  trapper  and  hunter's  life  has  been  saved 
by  following  a  buffalo-trail  when  he  was  suffering  from 
thirst.  The  buffalo-wallows  retain  usually  a  great  quan- 
tity of  water,  and  they  have  often  saved  the  lives  of  whole 
companies  of  cavalry,  both  men  and  horses. 

There  was,  however,  a  stranger  and  more  wonderful 
spectacle  to  be  seen  every  recurring  spring  during  the 
reign  of  the  buffalo,  soon  after  the  grass  had  started. 
There  were  circles  trodden  bare  on  the  plains,  thousands, 
yes,  millions  of  them,  which  the  early  travellers,  who  did 
not  divine  their  cause,  called  fairy-rings.  From  the  first 
of  April  until  the  middle  of  May  was  the  wet  season ; 
you  could  depend  upon  its  recurrence  almost  as  certainly 
as  on  the  sun  and  moon  rising  at  their  proper  time.  This 
was  also  the  calving  period  of  the  buffalo,  as  they,  un- 
like our  domestic  cattle,  only  rutted  during  a  single 
month  ;  consequently,  the  cows  all  calved  during  a  cer- 
tain time  ;  this  was  the  wet  month,  and  as  there  were  a 
great  many  gray  wolves  that  roamed  singly  and  in  im- 
mense packs  over  the  whole  prairie  region,  the  bulls,  in 
their  regular  beats,  kept  guard  over  the  cows  while  in 
the  act  of  parturition,  and  drove  the  wolves  away,  walk- 
ing in  a  ring  around  the  females  at  a  short  distance,  and 
thus  forming  the  curious  circles. 

In  every  herd  at  each  recurring  season  there  were  al- 
ways ambitious  young  bulls  that  came  to  their  majority, 
so  to  speak,  and  these  were  ever  read}r  to  test  their  claims 
for  the  leadership,  so  that  it  may  be  safely  stated  that  a 
month  rarely  passed  without  a  bloody  battle  between  them 
for  the  supremacy  ;  though,  strangely  enough,  the  struggle 
scarcely  ever  resulted  in  the  death  of  either  combatant. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  animal  in  which  maternal  love  is  so 
wonderfully  developed  as  the  buffalo  cow  ;  she  is  as  dan- 
gerous with  a  calf  by  her  side  as  a  she-grizzly  with  cubs, 
as  all  old  mountaineers  know. 


THE   BUFFALO  219 

The  buffalo  bull  that  has  outlived  his  usefulness  is  one 
of  the  most  pitiable  objects  in  the  whole  range  of  natural 
history.  Old  age  has  probably  been  decided  in  the  econ- 
omy of  buffalo  life  as  the  unpardonable  sin.  Abandoned 
to  his  fate,  he  may  be  discovered,  in  his  dreary  isolation, 
near  some  stream  or  lake,  where  it  does  not  tax  him  too 
severely  to  find  good  grass  ;  for  he  is  now  feeble,  and  ex- 
ertion an  impossibility.  In  this  new  stage  of  his  existence 
he  seems  to  have  completely  lost,  his  courage.  Frightened 
at  his  own  shadow,  or  the  rustling  of  a  leaf,  he  is  the 
very  incarnation  of  nervousness  and  susjficion.  Grega- 
rious in  his  habits  from  birth,  solitude,  foreign  to  his  whole 
nature,  has  changed  him  into  a  new  creature;  and  his  in- 
herent terror  of  the  most  trivial  things  is  intensified  to 
such  a  degree  that  if  a  man  were  compelled  to  undergo 
such  constant  alarm,  it  would  probably  drive  him  insane  in 
less  than  a  week.  Nobody  ever  saw  one  of  these  mis- 
erable and  helplessly  forlorn  creatures  dj'ing  a  natural 
death,  or  ever  heard  of  such  an  occurrence.  The  cowardly 
coyote  and  the  gray  wolf  had  already  marked  him  for 
their  own  ;   and  they  rarely  missed  their  calculations. 

Riding  suddenly  to  the  top  of  a  divide  once  with  a  party 
of  friends  in  1866,  we  saw  standing  belpw  us  in  the  val- 
ley an  old  buffalo  bull,  the  very  picture  of  despair.  Sur- 
rounding him  were  seven  gray  wolves  in  the  act  of 
challenging  him  to  mortal  combat.  The  poor  beast,  un- 
doubtedly realizing  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his  situation, 
had  determined  to  die  game.  His  great  shaggy  head, 
filled  with  burrs,  was  lowered  to  the  ground  as  he  con- 
fronted his  would-be  executioners  ;  his  tongue,  black  and 
parched,  lolled  out  of  his  mouth,  and  he  gave  utterance 
at  intervals  to  a.  suppressed  roar. 

The  wolves  were  sitting  on  their  haunches  in  a  semi- 
circle immediately  in  front  of  the  tortured  beast,  and  every 
time  that  the  fear-stricken  buffalo  would  give  vent  to  his 


220  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

hoarsely  modulated  groan,  the  wolves  howled  in  concert 
in  most  mournful  cadence. 

After  contemplating  his  antagonists  for  a  few  moments, 
the  bull  made  a  dash  at  the  nearest  wolf,  tumbling  him 
howling  over  the  silent  prairie  ;  but  while  this  diversion 
was  going  on  in  front,  the  remainder  of  the  pack  started 
for  his  hind  legs,  to  hamstring  him.  Upon  this  the  jjoor 
brute  turned  to  the  point  of  attack  oidy  to  receive  a  repe- 
tition of  it  in  the  same  vulnerable  place  by  the  wolves, 
who  had  as  quickly  turned  also  and  fastened  themselves- 
on  his  heels  again.  His  hind  quarters  now  streamed  with 
blood  and  he  began  to  show  signs  of  great  pli3'sical  weak- 
ness. He  did  not  dare  to  lie  down  ;  that  would  have 
been  instantly  fatal.  By  this  time  he  had  killed  three 
of  the  wolves  or  so  maimed  them  that  they  were  en- 
tirely out  of    the  fight. 

At  this  juncture  the  suffering  animal  was  mercifully 
shot,  and  the  wolves  allowed  to  batten  on  his  thin  and 
tough  carcass. 

Often  there  are  serious  results  growing  out  of  a  stam- 
pede, either  by  mules  or  a  herd  of  buffalo.  A  portion  of 
the  Fifth  United  States  Infantry  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  a  buffalo  stampede  on  the  Old  Trail,  in  the  early 
summer  of  1866.  General  George  A.  Sykes,  who  com- 
manded the  Division  of  Regulars  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  during  the  Civil  War,  was  ordered  to  join  his 
regiment,  stationed  in  New  Mexico,  and  was  conducting 
a  body  of  recruits,  with  their  complement  of  officers,  to 
fill  up  the  decimated  ranks  of  the  army  stationed  at  the 
various  military  posts,  in  far-off  Gi'easer  Land. 

The  command  numbered  nearly  eight  hundred,  includ- 
ing the  subaltern  officers.  These  recruits^or  the  majority 
of  them  at  least,  were  recruits  in  name  only  ;  they  had 
seen  service  in  many  a  hard  campaign  of  the  Rebellion. 
Some,  of  course,  were  beardless  youths  just  out  of  their 


THE    BUFFALO  221 

teens,  full  of  that  martial  ardour  which  induced  so  many 
young  men  of  the  nation  to  follow  the  drum  on  the  re- 
mote plains  and  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, where  the  wily  savages  still  held  almost  undisputed 
sway,  and  were  a  constant  menace  to  the  pioneer  settlers. 

One  morning,  when  the  command  had  just  settled  itself 
in  careless  repose  on  the  short  grass  of  the  apparently 
interminable  prairie  at  the  first  halt  of  the  day's  march, 
a  short  distance  beyond  Fort  Larned,  a  strange  noise,  like 
the  low  muttering  of  thunder  below  the  horizon,  greeted 
the  ears  of  the  little  army. 

All  were  startled  by  the  ominous  sound,  unlike  any- 
thing they  had  heard  before  on  their  dreary  tour.  The 
general  ordered  his  scouts  out  to  learn  the  cause  ;  could 
it  be  Indians?  Every  eye  was  strained  for  something  out 
of  the  ordinary.  Even  the  horses  of  the  officers  and  the 
mules  of  the  supply-train  were  infected  by  something 
that  seemed  impending ;  they  grew  restless,  stamped  the 
earth,  and  vainly  essayed  to  stampede,  but  were  pre- 
vented by  their  hobbles  and  picket-pins. 

Presently  one  of  the  scouts  returned  from  over  the 
divide,  and  reported  to  the  general  that  an  immense  herd 
of  buffalo  was  tearing  down  toward  the  Trail,  and  from 
the  great  clouds  of  dust  they  raised,  which  obscured  the 
horizon,  there  must  have  been  ten  thousand  of  them. 
The  roar  wafted  to  the  command,  and  which  seemed  so 
mysterious,  was  made  by  their  hoofs  as  they  rattled  over 
the  dry  prairie. 

The  sound  increased  in  volume  rapidly,  and  soon  a  black, 
surging  mass  was  discovered  bearing  right  down  on  the 
Trail.  Behind  it  could  be  seen  a  cavalcade  of  about  five 
hundred  Cheyennes,  Comanches,  and  Kiowas,  who  had 
maddened  the  shaggy  brutes,  hoping  to  capture  the  train 
without  an  attack  by  forcing  the  frightened  animals  to 
overrun  the  command. 


% 

222  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Luckily,  something  caused  the  herd  to  open  before  it 
reached  the  foot  of  the  divide,  and  it  passed  in  two 
masses,  leaving  the  command  between,  not  two  hundred 
feet  from  either  division  of  the  infuriated  beasts. 

The  rage  of  the  savages  was  evident  when  they  saw  that 
their  attempt  to  annihilate  the  troops  had  failed,  and  they 
rode  off  sullenly  into  the  sand  hills,  as  the  number  of 
soldiers  was  too  great  for  them  to  think  of  charg'insr. 

Cody  tells  of  a  buffalo  stampede  which  he  witnessed 
in  his  youth  on  the  plains,  when  he  was  a  wagon-master. 
The  caravan  was  on  its  way  with  government  stores  for 
the  military  posts  in  the  mountains,  and  the  wagons  were 
hauled  by  oxen. 

He  says  :  "  The  country  was  alive  with  buffalo,  and  be- 
sides killing  quite  a  number  we  had  a  rare  day  for  sport. 
<  )ne  morning  we  pulled  out  of  camp,  and  the  train  was 
strung  out  to  a  considerable  length  along  the  Trail, 
which  ran  near  the  foot  of  the  sand  hills,  two  miles 
from  the  river.  Between  the  road  and  the  river  we  saw 
a  large  herd  of  buffalo  grazing  quietly,  they  having  been 
down  to  the  stream  to  drink.  Just  at  this  time  we  ob- 
served a  party  of  returning  Californians  coming  from  the 
west.  They,  too,  noticed  the  buffalo  herd,  and  in  another 
moment  they  were  dashing  down  upon  them,  urging  their 
horses  to  their  greatest  speed.  The  buffalo  herd  stampeded 
at  once,  and  broke  down  the  sides  of  the  hills ;  so  hotly 
were  they  pursued  by  the  hunters  that  about  five  hun- 
dred of  them  rushed  pell-mell  through  our  caravan,  fright- 
ening both  men  and  oxen.  Some  of  the  wagons  were 
turned  clear  around  and  man}-  of  the  terrified  oxen  at- 
tempted to  run  to  the  hills  with  the  heavy  wagons  attached 
to  them.  Others  were  turned  around  so  short  that  they 
broke  the  tongues  off.  Nearly  all  the  teams  got  entangled 
in  their  gearing  and  became  wild  and  unruly,  so  that  the 
perplexed  drivers  were  unable  to  manage  them. 


THE   BUFFALO  223 

"The  buffalo,  the  cattle,  and  the  men  were  soon  running 
in  every  direction,  and  the  excitement  upset  everybody 
and  everything.  Many  of  the  oxen  broke  their  yokes 
and  stampeded.  One  big  buffalo  bull  became  entangled 
in  one  of  the  heavy  wagon-chains,  and  it  is  a  fact  that  in 
his  desperate  efforts  to  free  himself,  he  not  only  snapped 
the  strong  chain  in  two,  but  broke  the  ox-yoke  to  which 
it  was  attached,  and  the  last  seen  of  him  he  was  running 
toward  the  hills  with  it  hanging  from  his  horns." 

Stampedes  were  a  great  source  of  profit  to  the  Indians 
of  the  plains.  The  Comanches  were  particularly  expert 
and  daring  in  this  kind  of  robbery.  They  even  trained 
their  horses  to  run  from  one  point  to  another  in  expec- 
tation of  the  coming  of  the  trains.  When  a  camp  was 
made  that  was  nearly  in  range,  they  turned  their  trained 
animals  loose,  which  at  once  flew  across  the  prairie,  pass- 
ing through  the  herd  and  penetrating  the  very  corrals 
of  their  victims.  All  of  the  picketed  horses  and  mules 
would  endeavour  to  follow  these  decoys,  and  were  invaria- 
bly led  right  into  the  haunts  of  the  Indians,  who  easily 
secured  them.  Young  horses  and  mules  were  easily  fright- 
ened ;  and,  in  the  confusion  which  generally  ensued,  great 
injury  was  frequently  done  to  the  runaways  themselves. 

At  times  when  the  herd  was  very  large,  the  horses  scat- 
tered over  the  prairie  and  were  irrevocably  lost ;  and 
such  as  did  not  become  wild  fell  a  prey  to  the  wolves. 
That  fate  was  very  frequently  the  lot  of  stampeded  horses 
bred  in  the  States,  they  not  having  been  trained  by  a 
prairie  life  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Instead  of  stop- 
ping and  bravely  fighting  off  the  blood-thirsty  beasts,  they 
would  run.  Then  the  whole  pack  were  sure  to  leave 
the  bolder  animals  and  make  for  the  runaways,  which  they 
seldom  failed  to  overtake  and  despatch. 

On  the  Old  Trail  some  years  ago  one  of  these  stampedes 
occurred  of  a  band  of  government  horses,  in  which  were 


224  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

several  valuable  animals.  It  was  attended,  however,  with 
very  little  loss,  through  the  courage  and  great  exertion 
of  the  men  who  had  them  in  charge  ;  many  were  recovered, 
but  none  without  having  sustained  injuries. 

Hon.  R.  M.  Wright,  of  Dodge  City>  Kansas,  one  of  the 
pioneers  in  the  days  of  the  Santa  Fe  trade,  and  in  the 
settlement  of  the  State,  has  had  many  exciting  experiences 
both  with  the  savages  of  the  great  plains,  and  the  buffalo. 
In  relation  to  the  habits  of  the  latter,  no  man  is  better 
qualified  to  speak. 

He  was  once  owner  of  Fort  Aubrey,  a  celebrated  point 
on  the  Trail,  but  was  compelled  to  abandon  it  on  account 
of  constant  persecution  by  the  Indians,  or  rather  he  was 
ordered  to  do  so  by  the  military  authorities.  While  oc- 
cupying the  once  famous  landmark,  in  connection  with 
others,  had  a  contract  to  furnish  hay  to  the  government 
at  Fort  Lyon,  seventy-five  miles  further  west.  His  jour- 
nal, which  he  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal,  says :  "  While 
we  were  preparing  to  commence  the  work,  a  vast  herd 
of  buffalo  stampeded  through  our  range  one  night,  and 
took  off  with  them  about  half  of  our  work  cattle.  The 
next  day  a  stage-driver  and  conductor  on  the  Overland 
Route  told  us  they  had  seen  a  number  of  our  oxen  twenty- 
five  miles  east  of  Aubrey,  and  this  information  gave  me 
an  idea  in  which  direction  to  hunt  for  the  missing  beasts. 
I  immediately  started  after  them,  while  my  partner  took 
those  that  remained  and  a  few  wagons  and  left  with  them 
for  Fort  Lyon. 

"  Let  me  explain  here  that  while  the  Indians  were  sup- 
posed to  be  peaceable,  small  war-parties  of  }roung  men, 
who  could  not  be  controlled  by  their  chiefs,  were  contin- 
ually committing  depredations,  and  the  main  body  of  sav- 
ages themselves  were  very  uneasy,  and  might  be  exjaected 
to  break  out  any  day.  In  consequence  of  this  unsettled 
state  of  affairs,  there  had  been  a  brisk  movement  among 


THE   BUFFALO  225 

the  United  States  troops  stationed  at  the  various  military- 
posts,  a  large  number  of  whom  were  believed  to  be  on  the 
road  from  Denver  to  Fort  Lyon. 

"  I  filled  my  saddle-bags  with  jerked  buffalo,  hardtack 
and  ground  coffee,  and  took  with  me  a  belt  of  cartridges, 
my  rifle  and  six-shooter,  a  field-glass  and  my  blankets,  pre- 
pared for  any  emergency.  The  first  day  out,  I  found  a 
few  of  the  lost  cattle,  and  placed  them  on  the  river-bottom, 
which  I  continued  to  do  as  fast  as  I  recovered  them,  for  a 
distance  of  about  eighty-five  miles  down  the  Arkansas. 
There  I  met  a  wagon-train,  the  drivers  of  which  told  me 
that  I  would  find  several  more  of  my  oxen  with  a  train 
that  had  arrived  at  the  Cimarron  crossing  the  day  before. 
I  came  up  with  this  train  in  eight  or  ten  hours'  travel 
south  of  the  river,  got  my  cattle,  and  started  next  morn- 
ing for  home. 

"  I  picked  up  those  I  had  left  on  the  Arkansas  as  I  went 
along,  and  after  having  made  a  very  hard  day's  travel, 
about  sundown  I  concluded  I  would  go  into  camp.  I  had 
only  fairly  halted  when  the  oxen  began  to  drop  clown,  so 
completely  tired  out  were  they,  as  I  believed.  Just  as  it 
was  growing  dark,  I  happened  to  look  toward  the  west, 
and  I  saw  several  fires  on  a  big  island,  near  what  was 
called  '  The  Lone  Tree,'  about  a  mile  from  where  I  had 
determined  to  remain  for  the  night. 

"  Thinking  the  fires  were  those  of  the  soldiers  that  I 
had  heard  were  on  the  road  from  Denver,  and  anticipating 
and  longing  for  a  cup  of  good  coffee,  as  I  had  had  none 
for  five  days,  knowing,  too,  that  the  troops  would  be  full 
of  news,  I  felt  good  and  determined  to  go  over  to  their 
camp. 

"  The  Arkansas  was  low,  but  the  banks  steep,  with  high, 
rank  grass  growing  to  the  very  water's  edge.  I  found  a 
buffalo-trail  cut  through  the  deep  bank,  narrow  and  pre- 
cipitous, and  down  this  I  went,  arriving  in  a  short  time 

Q 


226  THE   OLD   SANTA   YE   TRAIL 

within  a  little  distance  of  my  supjiosed  soldiers'  camp. 
When  I  had  reached  the  middle  of  another  deep  cut  in 
the  bank,  I  looked  across  to  the  island,  and,  great  Caesar! 
saw  a  hundred  little  fires,  around  which  an  aggregation 
of  a  thousand  Indians  were  huddled! 

"  I  slid  backwards  off  my  horse,  and  by  dint  of  great 
exertion,  worked  him  up  the  river-barik  as  quietly  and 
quickly  as  possible,  then  led  him  gently  away  out  on  the 
prairie.  My  first  impulse  was  not  to  go  back  to  the  cattle  ; 
but  as  we  needed  them  very  badly,  I  concluded  to  return, 
put  them  all  on  their  feet,  and  light  out  mighty  lively, 
without  making  any  noise.  I  started  them,  and,  oh  dear! 
I  was  afraid  to  tread  upon  a  weed,  lest  it  would  snap  and 
bring  the  Indians  down  on  my  trail.  Until  I  had  put 
several  miles  between  them  and  me,  I  could  not  rest  easy 
for  a  moment.  Tired  as  I  was,  tired  as  were  both  my 
horse  and  the  cattle,  I  drove  them  twenty-five  miles  before 
I  halted.  Then  daylight  was  upon  me.  I  was  at  what 
is  known  as  Chouteau's  Island,  a  once  famous  place  in 
the  days  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail. 

"  Of  course,  I  had  to  let  the  oxen  and  my  horse  rest  and 
fill  themselves  until  the  afternoon,  and  I  lay  down,  and  fell 
asleep,  but  did  not  sleep  long,  as  I  thought  it  dangerous 
to  remain  too  near  the  cattle.  I  rose  and  walked  up  a  big, 
dry  sand  creek  that  opened  into  the  river,  and  after  I  had 
ascended  it  for  a  couple  of  miles,  found  the  banks  very 
steep  ;  in  fact,  they  rose  to  a  height  of  eighteen  or  twenty 
feet,  and  were  sharply  cut  up  by  narrow  trails  made  by 
the  buffalo. 

"  The  whole  face  of  the  earth  was  covered  by  buffalo, 
and  they  were  slowly  grazing  toward  the  Arkansas.  All 
at  once  they  became  frightened  at  something,  and  stam- 
peded pell-mell  toward  the  very  spot  on  which  I  stood. 
I  quickly  ran  into  one  of  the  precipitous  little  paths  and 
up  on  the  prairie,  to  see  what  had  scared  them.     They 


THE    BUFFALO  227 

were  making  the  ground  fairly  tremble  as  their  mighty 
multitude  came  rushing  on  at  full  speed,  the  sound  of 
their  hoofs  resembling  thunder,  but  in  a  continuous  peal. 
It  appeared  to  me  that  they  must  sweep  everything  in 
their  path,  and  for  my  own  preservation  I  rushed  under 
the  creek-bank,  but  on  they  came  like  a  tornado,  with  one 
old  bull  in  the  lead.  He  held  up  a  second  to  descend 
the  narrow  trail,  and  when  he  had  got  about  halfway 
down  I  let  him  have  it ;  I  was  only  a  few  steps  from  him 
and  over  he  tumbled.  I  don't  know  why  I  killed  him ; 
out  of  pure  wantonness,  I  expect,  or  perhaps  I  thought  it 
would  frighten  the  others  back.  Not  so,  however ;  they 
only  quickened  their  pace,  and  came  dashing  down  in 
great  numbers.  Dozens  of  them  stumbled  and  fell  over 
the  dead  bull ;  others  fell  over  them.  The  top  of  the 
bank  was  fairly  swarming  with  them  ;  they  leaped,  pitched, 
and  rolled  down.  I  crouched  as  close  to  the  bank  as 
possible,  but  many  of  them  just  grazed  my  head,  knocking 
the  sand  and  gravel  in  great  streams  down  my  neck ; 
indeed  I  was  half  buried  before  the  herd  had  passed  over. 
That  old  bull  was  the  last  buffalo  I  ever  shot  wantonly, 
excepting  once,  from  an  ambulance  while  riding  on  the 
Old  Trail,  to  please  a  distinguished  Englishman,  who  had 
never  seen  one  shot ;  then  I  did  it  only  after  his  most 
earnest  persuasion. 

"  One  day  a  stage-driver  named  Frank  Harris  and 
myself  started  out  after  buffalo ;  they  were  scarce,  for 
a  wonder,  and  we  were  very  hungry  for  fresh  meat.  The 
day  was  fine  and  we  rode  a  long  way,  expecting  sooner 
or  later  a  bunch  would  jump  up,  but  in  the  afternoon, 
having  seen  none,  we  gave  it  up  and  started  for  the 
ranch.  Of  course,  we  didn't  care  to  save  our  ammuni- 
tion, so  shot  it  away  at  everything  in  sight,  skunks,  rattle- 
snakes, prairie-dogs,  and  gophers,  until  we  had  only  a  few 
loads  left.     Suddenly  an  old   bull  jumped  up   that   had 


228  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

been  lying  down  in  one  of  those  sugar-loaf-shaped  sand 
hills,  whose  tops  are  hollowed  out  by  the  action  of  the  wind. 
Harris  emptied  his  revolver  into  him,  and  so  did  I ;  but  the 
old  fellow  sullenly  stood  still  there  on  top  of  the  sand  hill, 
bleeding  profusely  at  the  nose,  and  yet  absolutely  refusing 
to  die,  although  he  would  repeatedly  stagger  and  nearly 
tumble  over. 

"  It  was  getting  late  and  we  couldn't  wait  on  him,  so 
Harris  said  :  '  I  will  dismount,  creep  up  behind  him,  and 
cut  his  hamstrings  with  my  butcher-knife.'  The  bull 
having  now  lain  down,  Harris  commenced  operations,  but 
his  movement  seemed  to  infuse  new  life  into  the  old  fellow  ; 
he  jumped  to  his  feet,  his  head  lowered  in  the  attitude 
of  fight,  and  away  he  went  around  the  outside  of  the  top 
of  the  sand  hill !  It  was  a  perfect  circus  with  one  ring ; 
Harris,  who  was  a  tall,  lanky  fellow,  took  hold  of  the  en- 
raged animal's  tail  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  in  a  moment 
his  legs  were  flying  higher  than  his  head,  but  he  did  not 
dare  let  go  of  his  hold  on  the  bull's  tail,  and  around  and 
around  they  went ;  it  was  his  only  show  for  life.  I  could 
not  assist  him  a  particle,  but  had  to  sit  and  hold  his  horse, 
and  be  judge  of  the  fight.  I  really  thought  that  old  bull 
would  never  weaken.  Finally,  however,  the  'ring'  per- 
formance began  to  show  symptoms  of  fatigue  ;  slower  and 
slower  the  actions  of  the  bull  grew,  and  at  last  Harris  suc- 
ceeded in  cutting  his  hamstrings  and  the  poor  beast  went 
down.  Harris  said  afterward,  when  the  danger  was  all 
over,  that  the  only  thing  he  feared  was  that  perhaps  the 
bull's  tail  would  pull  out,  and  if  it  did,  he  was  well  aware 
that  he  was  a  goner.  We  brought  his  tongue,  hump,  and 
a  hindquarter  to  the  ranch  with  us,  and  had  a  glorious 
feast  and  a  big  laugh  that  night  with  the  boys  over  the 
ridiculous  adventure." 

General  Richard  Irving  Dodge,  United  States  army, 
in  his  work  on  the  big  game   of  America,  says  :   "  It  is 


THE   BUFFALO  229 

almost  impossible  for  a  civilized  being  to  realize  the  value 
to  the  plains  Indian  of  the  buffalo.  It  furnished  him  with 
home,  food,  clothing,  bedding,  horse  equipment,  —  almost 
everything. 

"From  1869  to  1873  I  was  stationed  at  various  posts 
along  the  Arkansas  River.  Early  in  spring,  as  soon  as  the 
dry  and  apparently  desert  prairie  had  begun  to  change  its 
coat  of  dingy  brown  to  one  of  palest  green,  the  horizon 
would  begin  to  be  dotted  with  buffalo,  single  or  in  groups 
of  two  or  three,  forerunners  of  the  coming  herd.  Thick 
and  thicker,  and  in  large  groups  they  come,  until  by  the 
time  the  grass  is  well  up,  the  whole  vast  landscape  ap- 
pears a  mass  of  buffalo,  some  individuals  feeding,  others 
lying  down,  but  the  herd  slowly  moving  to  the  northward; 
of  their  number,  it  was  impossible  to  form  a  conjecture. 

"  Determined  as  they  are  to  pursue  their  journey  north- 
ward, yet  they  are  exceedingly  cautious  and  timid  about  it, 
and  on  any  alarm  rush  to  the  southward  with  all  speed, 
until  that  alarm  is  dissipated.  Especially  is  this  the  case 
when  any  unusual  object  appears  in  their  rear,  and  so 
utterly  regardless  of  consequences  are  they,  that  an  old 
plainsman  will  not  risk  a  wagon-train  in  such  a  herd, 
where  rising  ground  will  permit  those  in  front  to  get  a 
good  view  of  their  rear. 

"  In  May,  1871, 1  drove  in  a  buggy  from  old  Fort  Zarah 
to  Fort  Lamed,  on  the  Arkansas  River.  The  distance 
is  thirty-four  miles.  At  least  twenty-five  miles  of  that 
distance  was  through  an  immense  herd.  The  whole 
country  was  one  mass  of  buffalo,  apparently,  and  it  was 
only  when  actually  among  them,  that  the  seemingly  solid 
body  was  seen  to  be  an  agglomeration  of  countless  herds 
of  from  fifty  to  two  hundred  animals,  separated  from  the 
surrounding  herds  by  a  greater  or  less  space,  but  still 
separated. 

"  The  road  ran  along  the  broad  valley  of  the  Arkansas. 


230  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Some  miles  from  Zarah  a  low  line  of  hills  rises  from  the 
plain  on  the  right,  gradually  increasing  in  height  and 
approaching  road  and  river,  until  they  culminate  in 
Pawnee  Rock. 

"  So  long  as  I  was  in  the  broad,  level  valley,  the  herds 
sullenly  got  out  of  my  way,  and,  turning,  stared  stupidly 
at  me,  some  within  thirty  or  forty  yards.  When,  however, 
1  had  reached  a  point  where  the  hills  were  no  more  than 
a  mile  from  the  road,  the  buffalo  on  the  crests,  seeing  an 
unusual  object  in  their  rear,  turned,  stared  an  instant, 
then  started  at  full  speed  toward  me,  stampeding  and 
bringing  with  them  the  numberless  herds  through  which 
they  passed,  and  pouring  down  on  me,  no  longer  separated, 
but  compacted  into  one  immense  mass  of  plunging  animals, 
mad  with  fright,  irresistible  as  ah  avalanche. 

"  The  situation  was  by  no  means  pleasant.  There  was 
but  one  hope  of  escape.  My  horse  was,  fortunately,  a 
quiet  old  beast,  that  had  rushed  with  me  into  many  a 
herd,  and  been  in  at  the  death  of  many  a  buffalo.  Rein- 
ing him  up,  I  waited  until  the  front  of  the  mass  was  within 
fifty  yards,  then,  with  a  few  well-directed  shots,  dropped 
some  of  the  leaders,  split  the  herd  and  sent  it  off  in  two 
streams  to  my  right  and  left.  When  all  had  passed  me, 
they  stopped,  apparently  satisfied,  though  thousands  were 
yet  within  reach  of  my  rifle.  After  my  servant  had  cut 
out  the  tongues  of  the  fallen,  I  proceeded  on  my  journe}7, 
only  to  have  a  similar  experience  within  a  mile  or  two, 
and  this  occurred  so  often  that  I  reached  Fort  Lamed 
with  twenty-six  tongues,  representing  the  greatest  number 
of  buffalo  that  I  can  blame  myself  with  having  murdered 
in  one  day. 

"  Some  years,  as  in  1871,  the  buffalo  appeared  to  move 
northward  in  one  immense  column,  oftentimes  from  twenty 
to  fifty  miles  in  width,  and  of  unknown  depth  from  front 
to  rear.      Other  years  the  northward  journey  was  made 


THE   BUFFALO  231 

in  several  parallel  columns  moving  at  the  same  rate  and 
with  their  numerous  flankers  covering  a  width  of  a  hun- 
dred or  more  miles. 

"  When  the  food  in  one  locality  fails,  they  go  to  another, 
and  toward  fall,  when  the  grass  of  the  high  prairies  be- 
comes parched  by  the  heat  and  drought,  they  gradually 
work  their  way  back  to  the  south,  concentrating  on  the 
rich  pastures  of  Texas  and  the  Indian  Territory,  whence, 
the  same  instinct  acting  on  all,  they  are  ready  to  start 
together  again  on  their  northward  march  as  soon  as  spring 
starts  the  grass. 

"  Old  plainsmen  and  the  Indians  aver  that  the  buffalo 
never  return  south  ;  that  each  year's  herd  was  composed 
of  animals  which  had  never  made  the  journey  before,  and 
would  never  make  it  again.  All  admit  the  northern  mi- 
gration, that  being  too  pronounced  for  any  one  to  dispute, 
but  refuse  to  admit  the  southern  migration.  Thousands 
of  young  calves  were  caught  and  killed  every  spring  that 
were  produced  during  this  migration,  and  accompanied 
the  herd  northward;  but  because  the  buffalo  did  not 
return  south  in  one  vast  body  as  they  went  north,  it  was 
stoutly  maintained  that  they  did  not  go  south  at  all. 
The  plainsman  could  give  no  reasonable  hypothesis  of  his 
'  No-return  theory '  on  which  to  base  the  origin  of  the 
vast  herds  which  yearly  made  their  march  northward. 
The  Indian  was,  however,  equal  to  the  occasion.  Every 
plains  Indian  firmly  believed  that  the  buffalo  were  pro- 
duced in  countless  numbers  in  a  country  under  ground ; 
that  every  spring  the  surplus  swarmed,  like  bees  from  a 
hive,  out  of  the  immense  cave-like  opening  in  the  region 
of  the  great  Llano  Estacado,  or  Staked  Plain  of  Texas. 
In  1879  Stone  Calf,  a  celebrated  chief,  assured  me  that 
he  knew  exactly  where  the  caves  were,  though  he  had 
never  seen  them ;  that  the  good  God  had  provided  this 
means  for  the  constant  supply  of  food  for  the  Indian,  and 


232 


THE    OLD    SANTA   FE   TKAIL 


however  recklessly  the  white  men  might  slaughter,  they 
could  never  exterminate  them.  When  last  I  saw  him, 
the  old  man  was  beginning  to  waver  in  this  belief,  and 
feared  that  the  '  Bad  God '  had  shut  the  entrances,  and 
that  his  tribe  must  starve." 

The  old  trappers  and  plainsmen  themselves,  even  as 
early  as  the  beginning  of  the  Santa  Fe  trade,  noticed  the 
gradual  disappearance  of  the  buffalo,  while  they  still  ex- 
isted in  countless  numbers.  One  veteran  French  Canadian, 
an  employee  of  the  American  Fur  Company,  way  back  in 
the  early  '30's,  used  to  mourn  thus  :  ."Mais,  sacre!  les 
Amarican,  dey  go  to  de  Missouri  frontier,  de  buffalo  he 
ron  to  de  montaigne ;  de  trappaire  wid  his  fusil,  he  follow 
to  de  Bayou  Salacle,  he  ron  again.  Dans  les  Montaignes 
Espagnol,  bang!  bang!  toute  la  journee,  toute  la  journee, 
go  de  sacre  voleurs.  De  bison  he  leave,  parceque  les 
fusils  scare  im  vara  moche,  ici  la  de  sem-sacre!  " 


£>u/felo  £>one)M -  orl_e§a/  Tender  for 
ttdrfier Counfy 


CHAPTER   XIII 


BIG     TIMBERS WINTER     CAMP     OF     THE     CHEYENNES,     KIOWAS, 

AND       ARAPAHOES SAVAGE       AMUSEMENTS  A      CHEYENNE 

LODGE INDIAN    ETIQUETTE TREATMENT    OF     CHILDREN 

THE    PIPE    OF    THE    NORTH    AMERICAN     SAVAGE DOG      FEAST 

MARRIAGE    CEREMONY 


Jftiav  I^^~~T|HIRTY-FIVE  miles  be- 

f^^^2S  ^aP"*     fore  arriving   at   Bent's 

team-  ^^  b 

Fort,  at  which  point  the 

Old  Trail  crossed  the 
Arkansas,  the  valley 
widens  and  the  prairie 
falls  toward  the  river 
in  gentle  undulations. 
There  for  many  years  the 
three  friendly  tribes  of 
plains  Indians  —  Chey- 
ennes,  Axapahoes,  and 
Kiowas  —  established 
their  winter  villages,  in 
order  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  supply  of  wood,  to  trade  with  the  whites, 
and  to  feed  their  herds  of  ponies  on  the  small  limbs  and 
bark  of  the  Cottonwood  trees  growing  along  the  margin 
of  the  stream  for  four  or  five  miles.  It  was  called  Big 
Timbers,  and  was  one  of  the  most  eligible  places  to  camp 
on  the  whole  route  after  leaving  Council  Grove.  The 
grass,  particularly  on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  was 
excellent ;  there  was  an  endless  supply  of  fuel,  and  cool 
water  without  stint. 

233 


23-4  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

In  the  severe  winters  that  sometimes  were  fruitful  of 
blinding  blizzards,  sweeping  from  the  north  in  an  inten- 
sity of  fury  that  was  almost  inconceivable,  the  buffalo  too 
congregated  there  for  shelter,  and  to  browse  on  the  twigs 
of  the  great  trees. 

The  once  famous  grove,  though  denuded  of  much  of  its 
timber,  may  still  be  seen  from  the  car  windows  as  the 
trains  hurry  mountain  ward. 

Garrard,  in  his  Taos  Trail,  presents  an  interesting  and 
amusing  account  of  a  visit  to  the  Cheyenne  village  with 
old  John  Smith,  in  1847,  when  the  Santa  Fe  trade  was 
at  its  height,  and  that  with  the  various  tribes  of  savages 
in  its  golden  days. 

"  Toward  the  middle  of  the  day,  the  village  was  in  a 
great  bustle.  Every  squaw,  child,  and  man  had  their 
faces  blackened  —  a  manifestation  of  joy.1 

Pell-mell  they  went  —  men,  squaws,  and  dogs  —  into 
the  icy  river.  Some  hastily  jerked  off  their  leggings,  and 
held  moccasins  and  dresses  high  out  of  the  water.  Others, 
too  impatient,  dashed  the  stream  from  beneath  their  im- 
petuous feet,  scarce  taking  time  to  draw  more  closely  the 
always  worn  robe.  Wondering  what  caused  all  this  com- 
motion, and  looking  over  the  river,  whither  the  yelling, 
half-frantic  savages  were  so  speedily  hurrying,  we  saw  a 
band  of  Indians  advancing  toward  us.  As  the  foremost 
braves  reined  their  champing  barbs  on  the  river-bank, 
mingled  whoops  of  triumph  and  delight  and  the  repeated 
discharge  of  guns  filled  the  air.  In  the  hands  of  three 
were  slender  willow  wands,  from  the  smaller  points  of 
which  dangled  as  many  scalps  — the  single  tuft  of  hair  on 
each  pronouncing  them  Pawnees.2 

1  This  black  is  made  from  a  species  of  plumbago  found  on  the  hills  of 
the  region. 

2  The  Pawnees  and  Cheyennes  were  hereditary  enemies,  and  they 
frequently  met  in  sanguinary  conflict. 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS  AND   LEGENDS  235 

"  These  were  raised  aloft,  amid  unrestrained  bursts  of 
joy  from  the  thrice-happy,  blood-thirsty  throng.  Children 
ran  to  meet  their  fathers,  sisters  their  brothers,  girls  their 
lovers,  returning  from  the  scene  of  victorious  strife ; 
decrepit  matrons  welcomed  manly  sons  ;  and  aged  chiefs 
their  boys  and  braves.  It  was  a  scene  of  affection,  and 
a  proud  day  in  the  Cheyenne  annals  of  prowess.  That 
small  but  gallant  band  were  relieved  of  their  shields  and 
lances  by  tender-hearted  squaws,  and  accompanied  to 
their  respective  homes,  to  repose  by  the  lodge-fire,  con- 
sume choice  meat,  and  to  be  the  heroes  of  the  family 
circle. 

"  The  drum  at  night  sent  forth  its  monotony  of  hollow 
sound,  and  my  Mexican  Pedro  and  I,  directed  by  the 
booming,  entered  a  lodge,  vacated  for  the  purpose,  full  of 
young  men  and  squaws,  following  one  another  in  a  con- 
tinuous circle,  keeping  the  left  knee  stiff  and  bending  the 
right  with  a  half-forward,  half-backward  step,  as  if  they 
wanted  to  go  on  and  could  not,  accompanying  it,  every 
time  the  right  foot  was  raised,  with  an  energetic,  broken 
song,  which,  dying  away,  was  again  and  again  sounded  — 
'  hay-a,  hay-a,  hay-a,'  they  went,  laying  the  emphasis  on 
the  first  syllable.  A  drum,  similar  to,  though  larger  than 
a  tambourine,  covered  with  parfliche,1  was  beaten  upon 
with  a  stick,  producing  with  the  voices  a  sound  not 
altogether  disagreeable. 

"  Throughout  the  entire  night  and  succeeding  day  the 
voices  of  the  singers  and  heavy  notes  of  the  drum  reached 
us,  and  at  night  again  the  same  dull  sound  lulled  me  to 
sleep.  Before  daylight  our  lodge  was  filled  with  careless 
dancers,  and  the  drum  and  voices,  so  unpleasing  to  our 

1  A  French  term  Anglicised,  as  were  many  other  foreign  words  by  the 
trappers  in  the  mountains.  Its  literal  meaning  is,  arrow  fender,  for  from 
it  the  plains  Indians  construct  their  shields  ;  it  is  buffalo-hide  prepared 
in  a  certain  manner. 


236  THE   OLD  SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

wearied  ears,  were  giving  us  the  full  benefit  of  their 
compass.  Smith,  whose  policy  it  was  not  to  be  offended, 
bore  the  infliction  as  best  he  could,  and  I  looked  on  much 
amused.  The  lodge  was  so  full  that  they  stood  without 
dancing,  in  a  circle  round  the  fire,  and  with  a  swaying 
motion  of  the  body  kept  time  to  their  music. 

"During  the  day  the  young  men,  except  the  dancers, 
piled  up  dry  logs  in  a  level  open  space  near,  for  a  grand 
demonstration.  At  night,  when  it  was  fired,  I  folded  my 
blanket  over  my  shoulders,  comme  les  sauvages,  and  went 
out.  The  faces  of  many  girls  were  brilliant  with  ver- 
milion ;  others  were  blacked,  their  robes,  leggings,  and 
skin  dresses  glittering  with  beads  and  quill -work.  Rings 
and  bracelets  of  shining  brass  encircled  their  taper  arms 
and  fingers,  and  shells  dangled  from  their  ears.  Indeed, 
all  the  finery  collectable  was  piled  on  in  barbarous  pro- 
fusion, though  a  few,  in  good  taste  through  poverty, 
wore  a  single  band  and  but  few  rings,  with  jetty  hair 
parted  in  the  middle,  from  the  forehead  to.  the  neck,  ter- 
minating in  two  handsome  braids. 

"The  young  men  who  can  afford  the  expense  trade  for 
dollars  and  silver  coin  of  less  denomination,  —  coin  as  a 
currency  is  not  known  among  them,  —  which  they  flatten 
thin,  and  fasten  to  a  braid  of  buffalo  hair,  attached  to 
the  crown  lock,  which  hangs  behind,  outside  of  the  robe, 
and  adds  much  to  the  handsome  appearance  of  the  wearer. 

"  The  girls,  numbering  two  hundred,  fell  into  line  to- 
gether, and  the  men,  of  whom  there  were  two  hundred  and 
fifty,  joining,  a  circle  was  formed,  which  travelled  around 
with  the  same  shuffling  step  already  described.  The 
drummers  and  other  musicians  —  twenty  or  twenty-five 
of  them  —  marched  in  a  contrary  direction  to  and  from 
and  around  the  fire,  inside  the  large  ring ;  for  at  the  dis- 
tance kept  by  the  outsiders  the  area  was  one  hundred 
and    fifty  feet    in   diameter.      The  Apollonian    emulators 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS   AND  LEGENDS  237 

chanted  the  great  deeds  performed  by  the  Cheyenne 
warriors.  As  they  ended,  the  dying  strain  was  caught 
up  by  the  hundreds  of  the  outside  circle,  who,  in  fast- 
swelling,  loud  tones,  poured  out  the  burden  of  their  song. 
At  this  juncture  the  march  was  quickened,  the  scalps  of 
the  slain  were  borne  aloft  and  shaken  with  wild  delight, 
and  shrill  war-notes,  rising  above  the  furious  din,  accel- 
erated the  pulsation  and  strung  high  the  nerves.  Time- 
worn  shields,  careering  in  mad  holders'  hands,  clashed ; 
and  keen  lances,  once  reeking  in  Pawnee  blood,  clanged. 
Braves  seized  one  another  with  an  iron  grip,  in  the  heat 
of  excitement,  or  chimed  more  tenderly  in  the  chant, 
enveloped  in  the  same  robe  with  some  maiden  as  they 
approvingly  stepped  through  one  of  their  own  original 
polkas. 

"  Thirty  of  the  chiefs  and  principal  men  were  ranged 
by  the  pile  of  blazing  logs.  By  their  invitation,  I  sat 
down  with  them  and  smoked  death  and  its  concomitant 
train  of  evils  to  those  audacious  tribes  who  doubt  the 
courage  or  supremacy  of  the  brave,  the  great  and  power- 
ful, Cheyenne  nation." 

It  is  Indian  etiquette  that  the  first  lodge  a  stranger 
enters  on  visiting  a  village  is  his  home  as  long  as  he 
remains  the  guest  of  the  tribe.  It  is  all  the  same  whether 
he  be  invited  or  not.  Upon  going  in,  it  is  customary  to 
place  all  your  traps  in  the  back  part,  which  is  the  most 
honoured  spot.  The  proprietor  alwaj'S  occupies  that  part 
of  his  home,  but  invariably  gives  it  up  to  a  guest.  With 
the  Cheyennes,  the  white  man,  when  the  tribe  was  at 
peace  with  him,  was  ever  welcome,  as  in  the  early  days  of 
the  border  he  generally  had  a  supply  of  coffee,  of  which 
the  savage  is  particularly  fond,  — Mok-ta-bo-mah-pe,  as 
they  call  it.  Their  salutation  to  the  stranger  coming 
into  the  presence  of  the  owner  of  a  lodge  is  "  Hook-ah- 
haij !     Num-whit"  —  "How  do  you  do?     Stay  with  us." 


238  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Water  is  then  handed  by  a  squaw,  as  it  is  supposed  a  trav- 
eller is  thirsty  after  riding  ;  then  meat,  for  he  must  be  hun- 
gry, too.     A  pipe  is  offered,  and  conversation  follows. 

The  lodge  of  the  Cheyennes  is  formed  of  seventeen  poles, 
about  three  inches  .thick  at  the  end  which  rests  on  the 
ground,  slender  in  shape,  tapering  symmetrically,  and 
eighteen  feet  or  more  in  length.  They  are  tied  together 
at  the  small  ends  with  buffalo-hide,  then  raised  until  the 
frame  resembles  a  cone,  over  which  buffalo-skins  are  placed, 
very  skilfully  fitted  and  made  soft  by  having  been  dubbed 
by  the  women,  —  that  is,  scraped  to  the  requisite  thinness, 
and  made  supple  by  rubbing  with  the  brains  of  the  animal 
that  wore  it.  They  are  sewed  together  with  sinews  of 
the  buffalo,  generally  of  the  long  and  powerful  muscle 
that  holds  up  the  ponderous  head  of  the  skaggjr  beast,  a 
narrow  strip  running  towards  the  hump.  In  summer  the 
lower  edges  of  the  skin  are  rolled  up,  and  the  wind  blow- 
ing through,  it  is  a  cool,  shady  retreat.  In  winter  every- 
thing is  closed,  and  I  know  of  no  more  comfortable  place 
than  a  well-made  Indian  lodge.  The  army  tent  known 
as  the  Sibley  is  modelled  after  it,  and  is  the  best  winter 
shelter  for  troops  in  the  field  that  can  be  made.  Many 
times  while  the  military  post;  where  I  had  been  ordered 
was  in  process  of  building,  I  have  chosen  the  Sibley  tent 
in  preference  to  any  other  domicile. 

When  a  village  is  to  be  moved,  it  is  an  interesting 
sight.  The  young  and  unfledged  boys  drive  up  the 
herd  of  ponies,  and  then  the  squaws  catch  them.  The 
women,  too,  take  down  the  lodges,  and,  tying  the  poles  in 
two  bundles,  fasten  them  on  each  side  of  an  animal,  the 
long  ends  dragging  on  the  ground.  Just  behind  the  pony 
or  mule,  as  the  case  may  be,  a  basket  is  placed  and  held 
there  by  buffalo-hide  thongs,  and  into  these  novel  carriages 
the  little  children  are  put,  besides  such  traps  as  are  not 
easily  packed  on  the  animal's  back. 


INDIAN  CUSTOMS  AND   LEGENDS  239 

The  women  do  all  the  work  both  in  camp  and  when  mov- 
ing. They  are  doomed  to  a  hopeless  bondage  of  slavery, 
the  fate  of  their  sex  in  every  savage  race  ;  but  they  accept 
their  condition  stoically,  and  there  is  as  much  affection 
among  them  for  their  husbands  and  children  as  I  have 
ever  witnessed  among  the  white  race.  Here  are  two  in- 
stances of  their  devotion;  both  of  which  came  under  my 
personal  observation,  and  I  could  give  hundreds  of  others. 

Late  in  the  fall  of  1858,  I  was  one  of  a  party  on  the 
trail  of  a  band  of  Indians  who  had  been  committing  some 
horrible  murders  in  a  mining-camp  in  the  northern  portion 
of  Washington  Territory.  On  the  fourth  day  out,  just 
about  dusk,  we  struck  their  moccasin  tracks,  which  we 
followed  all  night,  and  surprised  their  camp  in  the  gray 
light  of  the  early  morning.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  the 
fight  was  over,  and  besides  the  killed  we  captured  six 
prisoners.  Then  as  the  rising  sun  commenced  to  gild  the 
peaks  of  the  lofty  range  on  the  west,  having  granted  our 
captives  half  an  hour  to  take  leave  of  their  families,  the 
ankles  of  each  were  bound  ;  they  were  made  to  kneel  on 
the  prairie,  a  squad  of  soldiers,  with  loaded  rifles,  were 
drawn  up  eight  paces  in  front  of  them,  and  at  the  instant 
the  signal  —  a  white  handkerchief  — was  dropped  the  sav- 
ages tumbled  over  on  the  sod  a  heap  of  corpses.  The 
parting  between  the  condemned  men  and  their  young 
wives  and  children,  I  shall  never  forget.  It  was  the  most 
perfect  exhibition  of  marital  and  filial  love  that  I  have 
ever  witnessed.  Such  harsh  measures  may  seem  cruel  and 
heartless  in  the  light  of  to-day,  but  there  was  none  other 
than  martial  law  then  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Northern 
Pacific  coast,  and  the  execution  was  a  stern  necessity. 

The  other  instance  was  ten  years  later.  During  the  In- 
dian campaign  in  the  winter  of  1868-69  I  was  riding  with 
a  party  of  officers  and  enlisted  men,  south  of  the  Arkansas, 
about  forty  miles  from  Fort  Dodge.     We  were  watching 


240  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

some  cavalrymen  unearth  three  or  four  dead  warriors  who 
had  been  killed  by  two  scouts  in  a  fierce  unequal  fight  a 
few  weeks  before,  and  as  we  rode  into  a  small  ravine  among 
the  sand  hills,  we  suddenly  came  upon  a  rudely  con- 
structed Cheyenne  lodge.  Entering,  we  discovered  on 
a  rough  platform,  fashioned  of  green  poles,  a  dead  warrior 
in  full  war-dress  ;  his  shield  of  buffalo-hide,  pipe  orna- 
mented with  eagles'  feathers,  and  medicine  bag,  were 
lying  on  the  ground  beside  him.  At  his  head,  on  her 
knees,  with  hands  clasped  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  was 
a  squaw  frozen  to  death.  Which  had  first  succumbed,  the 
wounded  chief,  or  the  devoted  wife  in  the  awful  cold  oi 
that  winter  prairie,  will  never  be  known,  but  it  proved 
her  love  for  the  man  who  had  perhaps  beaten  her  a  hun- 
dred times.  Such  tender  and  sympathetic  affection  is 
characteristic  of  the  sex  everywhere,  no  less  with  the 
poor  savage  than  in  the  dominant  white  race. 

To  return  to  our  description  of  the  average  Indian  vil- 
lage :  Each  lodge  at  the  grand  encampment  of  Big  Timbers 
in  the  era  of  traffic  with  the  nomads  of  the  great  plains, 
owned  its  separate  herd  of  ponies  and  mules.  In  the 
exodus  to  some  other  favoured  spot,  two  dozen  or  more  of 
these  individual  herds  travelled  close  to  each  other  but 
never  mixed,  each  drove  devotedly  following  its  bell- 
mare,  as  in  a  pack-train.  This  useful  animal  is  generally 
the  most  worthless  and  wicked  beast  in  the  entire  outfit. 

The  animals  with  the  lodge-pole  carriages  go  as  they 
please,  no  special  care  being  taken  to  guide  them,  but 
they  too  instinctively  keep  within  sound  of  the  leader.  I 
will  again  quote  Garrard  for  an  accurate  description  of 
the  moving  camp  when  he  was  with  the  Cheyennes  in 
1847:  — 

"  The  young  squaws  take  much  care  of  their  dress  and 
horse  equipments  ;  they  dash  f  urioiisly  past  on  wild  steeds, 
astride  of  the  high-pommelled  saddles.     A  fancifully  col- 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS   AND   LEGENDS  241 

oured  cover,  worked  with  beads  or  porcupine  quills,  mak- 
ing a  flashy,  striking  appearance,  extended  from  withers  to 
rump  of  the  horse,  while  the  riders  evinced  an  admira- 
ble daring,  worthy  of  Amazons.  Their  dresses  were  made 
of  buckskin,  high  at  the  neck,  with  short  sleeves,  or  rather 
none  at  all,  fitting  loosely,  and  reaching  obliquely  to  the 
knee,  giving  a  Diana  look  to  the  costume  ;  the  edges 
scalloped,  worked  with  beads,  and  fringed.  From  the 
knee  downward  the  limb  was  encased  in  a  tightly  fitting 
legging,  terminating  in  a  neat  moccasin  —  both  handsomely 
wrought  with  beads.  On  the  arms  were  bracelets  of  brass, 
which  glittered  and  reflected  in  the  radiant  morning  sun, 
adding  much  to  their  attractions.  In  their  pierced  ears, 
shells  from  the  Pacific  shore  were  pendent ;  and  to  com- 
plete the  picture  of  savage  taste  and  profusion,  their  fine 
complexions  were  -eclipsed  by  a  coat  of  flaming  vermilion. 

"  Many  of  the  largest  dogs  were  packed  with  a  small 
quantity  of  meat,  or  something  not  easily  injured.  They 
looked  queerly,  trotting  industriously  under  their  burdens  ; 
and,  judging  from  a  small  stock  of  canine  physiological 
information,  not  a  little  of  the  wolf  was  in  their  com- 
position. 

"  We  crossed  the  river  on  our  way  to  the  new  camp.  The 
alarm  manifested  by  the  children  in  the  lodge-pole  drays, 
as  they  dipped  in  the  water,  was  amusing.  The  little  fel- 
lows, holding  their  breath,  not  daring  to  cry,  looked  implor- 
ingly at  their  inexorable  mothers,  and  were  encouraged 
by  words  of  approbation  from  their  stern  fathers. 

"  After  a  ride  of  two  hours  we  stopped,  and  the  chiefs, 
fastening  their  horses,  collected  in  circles  to  smoke 
their  pipe  and  talk,  letting  their  squaws  unpack  the 
animals,  pitch  the  lodges,  build  the  fires,  and  arrange  the 
robes.  When  all  was  ready,  these  lords  of  creation  dis- 
persed to  their  several  homes,  to  wait  until  their  patient 
and  enduring  spouses  prepared   some    food.     I  was  pro- 


242  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

voked,  na)r,  angry,  to  see  the  lazy,  overgrown  men  do 
nothing  to  help  their  wives  ;  and  when  the  young  women 
pulled  off  their  bracelets  and  finery  to  chop  wood,  the 
cup  of  my  wrath  was  full  to  overflowing,  and,  in  a  fit  of 
honest  indignation,  I  pronounced  them  ungallant  and 
savage  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word." 

The  treatment  of  Indian  children,  particularly  boys,  is 
something  startling  to  the  gentle  sentiments  of  refined 
white  mothers.  The  girls  receive  hardly  any  attention 
from  their  fathers.  Implicit  obedience  is  the  watchword 
of  the  lodge  with  them,  and  they  are  constantly  taught  to 
appreciate  their  inferiorit}'  ,of  sex.  The  daughter  is  a 
mere  slave  ;  unnoticed  and  neglected  —  a  mere  hewer  of 
wood  and  drawer  of  water.  With  a  son,  it  is  entirely 
different ;  the  father  from  his  birth  dotes  on  him  and 
manifests  his  affection  in  the  most  demonstrative  manner. 

Garrard  tells  of  two  instances  that  came  under  his 
observation  while  stajdng  at  the  chief's  lodge,  and  at 
John  Smith's,  in  the  Cheyenne  village,  of  the  discipline  to 
which  the  boys  are  subjected. 

"  In  Vi-po-nah's  lodge  was  his  grandson,  a  boy  six  or 
seven  months  old.  Every  morning  his  mother  washed 
him  in  cold  water,  and  set  him  out  in  the  air  to  make 
him  hardy ;  he  would  come  in,  perfectly  nude,  from  his 
airing,  about  half-frozen.  How  he  would  laugh  and 
brighten  up,  as  he  felt  the  w.armth  of  the  fire  ! 

"  Smith's  son  Jack  took  a  crying  fit  one  cold  night,  much 
to  the  annoyance  of  four  or  five  chiefs,  who  had  come  to 
our  lodge  to  talk  and  smoke.  In  vain  did  the  mother 
shake  and  scold  him  with  the  severest  Cheyenne  words, 
until  Smith,  provoked  beyond  endurance,  took  the  squalling 
youngster  in  his  hands  ;  he  shu-ed  and  shouted  and  swore, 
but  Jack  had  gone  too  far  to  be  easily  pacified.  He  then 
sent  for  a  bucket  of  water  from  the  river  and  poured 
cupful  after  cupful  on  Jack,  who  stamped   and  screamed 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS  AND  LEGENDS  243 

and  bit  in  his  tiny  rage.  Notwithstanding,  the  icy  stream 
slowly  descended  until  the  bucket  was  emptied,  another 
was  sent  for,  and  again  and  again  the  cup  was  replenished 
and  emptied  on  the  blubbering  youth.  At  last,  exhausted 
with  exertion  and  completely  cooled  down,  he  received 
the  remaining  water  in  silence,  and,  with  a  few  words  of 
admonition,  was  delivered  over  to  his  mother,  in  whose 
arms  he  stifled  his  sobs,  until  his  heartbreaking  grief 
and  cares  were  drowned  in  sleep.  What  a  devilish  mixt- 
ure Indian  and  American  blood  is!  " 

The  Indians  never  chastise  a  boy,  as  they  think  his 
spirit  would  be  broken  and  cowed  down  ;  instead  of  a 
warrior  he  would  be  a  squaw  —  a  harsh  epithet  indica- 
tive of  cowardice  —  and  they  resort  to  any  method  but 
infliction  of  blows  to  subdue  a  refractory  scion. 

Before  most  of  the  lodges  is  a  tripod  of  three  sticks, 
about  seven  feet  in  length  and  an  inch  in  diameter,  fast- 
ened at  the  top,  and  the  lower  ends  brought  out,  so  that 
it  stands  alone.  On  this  is  hung  the  shield  and  a  small 
square  bag  of  parfieche,  containing  pipes,  with  an  accom- 
panying pendent  roll  of  stems,  carefully  wrapped  in  blue 
or  red  cloth,  and  decorated  with  beads  and  porcupine 
quills.  This  collection  is  held  in  great  veneration,  for 
the  pipe  is  their  only  religion.  Through  its  agency  they 
invoke  the  Great  Spirit  ;  through  it  they  render  homage 
to  the  winds,  to  the  earth,  ind  to  the  sky. 

Every  one  has  his  peculiar  notion  on  this  subject  ;  and, 
in  passing  the  pipe,  one  must  have  it  presented  stem  down- 
ward, another  the  reverse ;  some  with  the  bowl  resting 
on  the  ground  ;  and  as  this  is  a  matter  of  great  solemnity, 
their  several  fancies  are  respected.  Sometimes  I  required 
them  to  hand  it  to  me,  when  smoking,  in  imitation  of 
their  custom  ;  on  this,  a  faint  smile,  half  mingled  with 
respect  and  pity  for  my  folly  in  tampering  with  their 
sacred  ceremony,  would  appear  on  their  faces,  and  with  a 


244  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

slow  negative  shake  of  the  head,  they  would  ejaculate, 
lI-sto-met-mah-son-ne-u>ah-hein  '  —  '  Pshaw  !  that's  foolish  ; 
don't  do  so.' 

Religion  the  Chevennes  have  none,  if,  indeed,  we  except 
the  respect  paid  to  the  pipe  ;  nor  do  we  see  any  sign 
or  vestige  of  spiritual  worship  ;  except  one  remarkable 
thing,  —  in  offering  the  pipe,  before  every  fresh  rilling, 
to  the  sky,  the  earth,  and  the  winds,  the  motion  made  in 
so  doing  describes  the  form  of  a  cross  ;  and,  in  blowing 
the  first  four  whiffs,  the  smoke  is  invariably  sent  in  the 
same  four  directions.  It  is  undoubtedly  void  of  meaning 
in  reference  to  Christian  worship,  yet  it  is  a  superstition, 
founded  on  ancient  tradition.  This  tribe  once  lived  near 
the  head  waters  of  the  Mississippi ;  and,  as  the  early 
Jesuit  missionaries  were  energetic  zealots,  in  the  diffusion 
of  their  religious  sentiments,  probably  to  make  their  faith 
more  acceptable  to  the  Indians,  the  Roman  Catholic  rites 
were  blended  with  the  homage  shown  to  the  pipe,  which 
custom  of  offering,  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  is  still  retained 
by  them  ;  but  as  every  custom  is  handed  down  by  tradi- 
tion merely,  the  true  source  has  been  forgotten. 

In  every  tribe  in  whose  country  I  have  been  stationed, 
which  comprises  nearly  all  the  continent  excepting  the 
extreme  southwestern  portion,  his  pipe  is  the  Indian's 
constant  companion  through  life.  It  is  his  messenger  of 
peace  ;  he  pledges  his  friendl  through  its  stem  and  its 
bowl,  and  when  he  is  dead,  it  has  a  place  in  his  solitary 
grave,  with  his  war-club  and  arrows  —  companions  on  his 
journey  to  his  long-fancied  beautiful  hunting-grounds. 
The  pipe  of  peace  is  a  sacred  thing  ;  so  held  by 
all  Indian  nations,  and  kept  in  possession  of  chiefs, 
to  be  smoked  only  at  times  of  peacemaking.  When 
the  terms  of  treaty  have  been  agreed  upon,  this  sacred 
emblem,  the  stem  of  which  is  ornamented  with  eagle's 
quills,  is  brought  forward,  and  the  solemn  pledge  to  keep 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS  AND  LEGENDS  245 

the  peace  is  passed  through  the  sacred  stem  by  each 
chief  and  warrior  drawing  the  smoke  once  through  it. 
After  the  ceremony  is  over,  the  warriors  of  the  two  tribes 
unite  in  the  dance,  with  the  pipe  of  peace  held  in  the  left 
hand  of  the  chief  and  in  his  other  a  rattle. 

Thousands  of  years  ago,  the  primitive  savage  of  the 
American  continent  carried  masses  of  pipe-stone  from  the 
sacred  quarry  in  Minnesota  across  the  vast  wilderness  of 
plains,  to  trade  with  the  people  of  the  far  Southwest, 
over  the  same  route  that  long  afterward  became  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail  ;  therefore,  it  will  be  consistent  with  the  char- 
acter of  this  work  to  relate  the  history  of  the  quarry  from 
which  all  the  tribes  procured  their  material  for  fashion- 
ing their  pipes,  and  the  curious  legends  connected  with 
it.  I  have  met  with  the  red  sandstone  pipes  on  the  re- 
motest portions  of  the  Pacific  coast,  and  east,  west,  north 
and  south,  in  every  tribe  that  it  has  been  my  fortune  to 
know. 

The  word  "Dakotah  "  means  allied  or  confederated,  and 
is  the  family  name  now  comprising  some  thirty  bands,  num- 
bering about  thirty  thousand  Indians.  They  are  generally 
designated  Sioux,  but  that  title  is  seldom  willingly  ac- 
knowledged by  them.  It  was  first  given  to  them  by  the 
French,  though  its  original  interpretation  is  by  no  means 
clear.  The  accepted  theory,  because  it  is  the  most  plau- 
sible, is  that  it  is  a  corruption  or  rather  an  abbreviation  of 
"Nadouessioux,"  a  Chippewa  word  for  enemies. 

Many  of  the  Sioux  are  semi-civilized ;  some  are 
"  blanket-Indians,"  so  called,  but  there  are  no  longer  any 
murderous  or  predatory  bands,  and  all  save  a  few  strag- 
glers are  on  the  reservations.  From  1812  to  1876,  more 
than  half  a  century,  they  were  the  scourge  of  the  West 
and  the  Northwest,  but  another  outbreak  is  highly  im- 
probable. They  once  occupied  the  vast  region  included 
between  the   Mississippi  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 


246  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

were  always  migratory  in  their  methods  of  living.  Over 
fifty  years  ago,  when  the  whites  first  became  acquainted 
with  them,  they  were  divided  into  nearly  fifty  bands  or 
families,  each  with  its  separate  chief,  but  all  acknowledg- 
ing a  superior  chief  to  whom  they  were  subordinate. 
They  were  at  that  time  the  happiest  and  most  wealthy 
tribe  on  the  continent,  regarded  from  an  Indian  stand- 
point ;  but  then  the  great  plains  were  stocked  with  buffalo 
and  wild  horses,  and  that  fact  alone  warrants  the  assertion 
of  contentment  and  riches.  No  finer-looking  tribe  ex- 
isted ;  they  could  then  muster  more  than  ten  thousand 
warriors,  every  one  of  whom  would  measure  six  feet,  and 
all  their  movements  were  graceful  and  elastic. 

According  to  their  legends,  they  came  from  the  Pacific 
and  encountered  the  Algonquins  about  the  head  waters 
of  the  Mississippi,  where  they  were  held  in  check,  a  por- 
tion of  them,  however,  pushing  on  through  their  enemies 
and  securing  a  foothold  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan. 
This  bold  band  was  called  by  the  Chippewas  Winneba- 
gook  (men-from-the-salt-water).  In  their  original  habi- 
tat on  the  great  northern  plains  was  located  the  celebrated 
"  red  pipe-stone  quarry,"  a  relatively  limited  area,  owned 
by  all  tribes,  but  occupied  permanently  by  none  ;  a  purely 
neutral  ground,  —  so  designated  by  the  Great  Spirit,  — 
where  no  war  could  possibly  occur,  and  where  mortal  ene- 
mies might  meet  to  procure  the  material  for  their  pipes, 
but  the  hatchet  was  invariably  buried  during  that  time  on 
the  consecrated  spot. 

The  quarry  has  long  since  passed  out  of  the  control  and 
jurisdiction  of  the  Indians  and  is  not  included  in  any  of 
their  reservations,  though  near  the  Sisseton  agency.  It 
is  located  on  the  summit  of  the  high  divide  between  the 
Missouri  and  St.  Peter's  rivers  in  Minnesota,  at  a  point 
not  far  from  where  the  ninety-seventh  meridian  of  longi- 
tude (from  Greenwich)  intersects  the  forty-fifth  parallel 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS   AND   LEGENDS  247 

of  latitude.  The  divide  was  named  by  the  French  Coteau 
des  Prairies,  and  the  quarry  is  near  its  southern  extremity. 
Not  a  tree  or  bush  could  be  seen  from  the  majestic  mound 
when  I  last  was  there,  some  twenty  years  ago  —  nothing 
but  the  apparently  interminable  plains,  until  they  were 
lost  in  the  deep  blue  of  the  horizon. 

The  luxury  of  smoking  appears  to  have  been  known  to 
all  the  tribes  on  the  continent  in  their  primitive  state,  and 
they  indulge  in  the  habit  to  excess  ;  any  one  familiar  with 
their  life  can  assert  that  the  American  savage  smokes  half 
of  his  time.  Where  so  much  attention  is  given  to  a  mere 
pleasure,  it  naturally  follows  that  he  would  devote  his 
leisure  and  ingenuity  to  the  construction  of  his  pipe. 
The  bowls  of  these  were,  from  time  immemorial,  made  of 
the  peculiar  red  stone  from  the  famous  quarry  referred 
to,  which,  until  only  a  little  over  fifty  years  ago,  was 
never  visited  by  a  white  man,  its  sanctity  forbidding  any 
such  sacrilege. 

That  the  spot  should  have  been  visited  for  untold  cen- 
turies by  all  the  Indian  nations,  who  hid  their  weapons  as 
they  approached  it,  under  fear  of  the  vengeance  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  will  not  seem  strange  when  the  religion  of 
the  race  is  understood.  One  of  the  principal  features  of 
the  quarry  is  a  perpendicular  wall  of  granite  about  thirty 
feet  high,  facing  the  west,  and  nearly  two  miles  long.  At 
the  base  of  the  wall  there  is  a  level  prairie,  running  par- 
allel to  it,  half  a  mile  wide.  Under  this  strip  of  land, 
after  digging  through  several  slaty  layers  of  rock,  the  red 
sandstone  is  found.  Old  graves,  fortifications,  and  exca- 
vations abound,  all  confirmatory  of  the  traditions  cluster- 
ing around  the  weird  place. 

Within  a  few  rods  of  the  base  of  the  wall  is  a  group  of 
immense  gneiss  boulders,  five  in  number,  weighing  prob- 
ably many  hundred  tons  each,  and  under  these  are  two 
holes  in  which  two   imaginary  old  women   reside,  —  the 


248  THE   OLD   SANTA  EE   TRAIL 

guardian  spirits  of  the  quarry,  —  who  were  always  con- 
sulted before  any  pipe-stone  could  be  dug  up.  The  vener- 
ation for  this  group  of  boulders  was  something  wonder- 
ful ;  not  a  spear  of  grass  was  broken  or  bent  by  his  feet 
within  sixty  or  seventy  paces  from  them,  where  the  trem- 
bling Indian  halted,  and  throwing  gifts  to  them  in  humble 
supplication,  solicited  permission  to  dig  and  take  away  the 
red  stone  for  his  pipes. 

Near  this  spot,  too,  on  a  high  mound,  was  the  "  Thunder's 
nest,"  where  a  very  small  bird  sat  upon  her  eggs  during 
fair  weather.  When  the  skies  were  rent  with  thunder  at 
the  approach  of  a  storm,  she  was  hatching  her  brood,  which 
caused  the  terrible  commotion  in  the  heavens.  The  bird 
was  eternal.  The  "  medicine  men  "  claimed  that  they  had 
often  seen  her,  and  she  was  about  as  large  as  a  little  finger. 
Her  mate  was  a  serpent  whose  fiery  tongue  destroyed  the 
young  ones  as  soon  as  they  were  born,  and  the  awful  noise 
accompanying  the  act  darted  through  the  clouds. 

On  the  wall  of  rocks  at  the  quarry  are  thousands  of  in- 
scriptions and  paintings,  the  totems  and  arms  of  various 
tribes  who  have  visited  there  ;  but  no  idea  can  be  formed 
of  their  antiquity.' 

Of  the  various  traditions  of  the  many  .tribes,  I  here 
present  a  few.  The  Great  Spirit  at  a  remote  period 
called  all  the  Indian  nations  together  at  this  place, 
and,  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice  of  red-stone 
rock,  broke  from  its  walls  a  piece  and  fashioned  a  pipe 
by  simply  turning  it  in  his  hands.  He  then  smoked  over 
them  to  the  north,  the  south,  the  east,  and  the  west,  and 
told  them  the  stone  was  red,  that  it  was  their  flesh,  that  they 
must  use  it  for  their  pipes  of  peace,  that  it  belonged  to 
all  alike,  and  that  the  war-club  and  scalping-knife  must 
never  be  raised  on  its  ground.  At  the  last  whiff  of  his 
pipe  his  head  went  into  a  great  cloud,  and  the  whole  sur- 
face of  the  ledge  for  miles  was  melted  and  glazed ;  two 


INDIAN   CUSTOMS   AND   LEGENDS  249 

great  ovens  were  opened  beneath,  and  two  women  —  the 
guardian  spirits  of  the  place  —  entered  them  in  a  blaze  of 
fire,  and  they  are  heard  there  yet  answering  to  the  con- 
jurations of  the  medicine  men,  who  consult  them  when 
they  visit  the  sacred  place. 

The  legend  of  the  Knis-te-neu's  tribe  (Crees),  a  very 
small  band  in  the  British  possessions,  in  relation  to  the 
quarry  is  this  :  In  the  time  of  a  great  freshet  that  occurred 
years  ago  and  destroyed  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  every 
tribe  of  Indians  assembled  on  the  top  of  the  Coteau  des 
Prairies  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  rushing  and  seething 
waters.  When  they  had  arrived  there  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  the  water  continued  to  rise  until-  it  covered 
them  completely,  forming  one  solid  mass  of  drowned  Ind- 
ians, and  their  flesh  was  converted  by  the  Great  Spirit 
into  red  pipe-stone ;  therefore,  it  was  always  considered 
neutral  ground,  belonging  to  all  tribes  alike,  and  all  were 
to  make  their  pipes  out  of  it  and  smoke  together.  While 
they  were  drowning  together,  a  young  woman,  Kwaptan, 
a  virgin,  caught  hold  of  the  foot  of  a  very  large  bird  that 
was  flying  over  at  the  time,  and  was  carried  to  the  top  of 
a  hill  that  was  not  far  away  and  above  the  water.  There 
she  had  twins,  their  father  being  the  war-eagle  that  had 
carried  her  off,  and  her  children  have  since  peopled  the 
earth.  The  pipe-stone,  which  is  the  flesh  of  their  ances- 
tors, is  smoked  by  them  as  the  symbol  of  peace,  and  the 
eagle  quills  decorate  the  heads  of  their  warriors. 

Severed  about  seven  or  eight  feet  from  the  main  wall 
of  the  quarry  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  ages  ago, 
there  is  an  immense  column  just  equal  in  height  to  the 
wall,  seven  feet  in  diameter  and  beautifully  polished  on 
its  top  and  sides.  It  is  called  The  Medicine,  or  Leaping 
Rock,  and  considerable  nerve  is  required  to  jump  on  it 
from  the  main  ledge  and  back  again.  Many  an  Indian's 
heart,  in  the  past,  has  sighed  for  the  honour  of  the  feat 


250 


THE    OLD    SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


without  daring  to  attempt  it.  A  few,  according  to  the 
records  of  the  tribes,  have  tried  it  with  success,  and  left 
their  arrows  standing  up  in  its  crevice  ;  others  have  made 
the  leap  and  reached  its  slippery  surface  only  to  slide 
off,  and  suffer  instant  death  on  the  craggy  rocks  in  the 
awful  chasm  below.  Every  young  man  of  the  many 
tribes  was  ambitious  to  perform  the  feat,  and  those  who 
had  successfully  accomplished  it  were  permitted  to  boast 
of  it  all  their  lives. 


~-/\nnudi  Raca  of~75a3  Indians' 


CHAPTER   XIV 


THE     OLD     PUEBLO      FORT A     CELEBRATED     RENDEZV1US ITS 

INHABITANTS "FONTAINE      QUI      BOUILLE  " THE      LEGEND 

OF     ITS     ORIGIN THE     TRAPPERS      OF      THE     OLD      SANTA     FE 

TRAIL    AND     THE    ROCKY    MOUNTAINS BEAVER    TRAPPING 

HABITS  OF  THE  BEAVER IMPROVIDENCE  OF  THE  OLD  TRAP- 
PERS  TRADING  WITH  "  POOR  LO  " THE  STRANGE  EXPERI- 
ENCE   OF    A    VETERAN    TRAPPER   ON    THE     SANTA    FE     TRAIL 

ROMANTIC    MARRIAGE    OF    BAPTISTE    BROWN 


VkO/cf 
Trapper' 


HE  initial  opening  of  the 
trade  with  New  Mexico 
from  the  Missouri  River, 
as  has  been  related,  was 
not  direct  to  Santa  Fe. 
The  limited  number  of 
pack-trains  at  first  passed 
to  the  north  of  the  Raton 
Range,  and  travelled  to 
the  Spanish  settlements 
in  the  valley  of  Taos. 

On  this  original  Trail, 
where  now  is  situated  the 
beautiful  city  of  Pueblo, 
the  second  place  of  im- 
portance in  Colorado, 
there  was  a  little  Indian  trading-post  called  "the  Pueblo," 
from  which  the  present  thriving  place  derives  its  name. 
The  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad  practically 
follows  the   same   route    that    the    traders    did    to    reach 

251 


252  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

Pueblo,  as  it  also  does  that  which  the  freight  caravans 
later  followed  from  the  Missouri  River  direct  to  Santa 
Fe. 

The  old  Pueblo  fort,  as  nearly  as  can  be  determined 
now,  was  built  as  early  as  1840,  or  not  later  than  1842, 
and,  as  one  authority  asserts,  by  George  Simpson  and  his 
associates,  Barclay  and  Doyle.  Beckwourth  claims  to 
have  been  the  original  projector  of  the  fort,  and  to  have 
given  the  general  plan  and  its  name,  in  which  I  am  in- 
clined to  believe  that  he  is  correct ;  perhaps  Barclay, 
Doyle,  and  Simpson  were  connected  with  him,  as  he 
states  that  there  were  other  trappers,  though  he  mentions 
no  names.  It  was  a  square  fort  of  adobe,  with  circular 
bastions  at  the  corners,  no  part  of  the  walls  being  more 
than  eight  feet  high.  Around  the  inside  of  the  plaza,  or 
corral,  were  half  a  dozen  small  rooms  inhabited  by  as 
many  Indian  traders  and  mountain-men. 

One  of  the  earlier  Indian  agents,  Mr.  Fitzpatrick,  in 
writing  from  Bent's  Fort  in  1847,  thus  describes  the  old 
Pueblo :  — 

"  About  seventy-five  miles  above  this  place,  and  imme- 
diately on  the  Arkansas  River,  there  is  a  small  settlement, 
chiefly  composed  of  old  trappers  and  hunters;  the  male 
part  of  it  are  mostly  Americans  (Missourians),  French 
Canadians,  and  Mexicans.  It  numbers  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty,  and  of  this  number  about  sixty  men  have  wives, 
and  some  have  two.  These  wives  are  of  various  Indian 
tribes,  as  follows ;  viz.  Blackfeet,  Assiniboines,  Sioux, 
Arapahoes,  Cheyennes,  Snakes,  and  Comanches.  The 
American  women  are  Mormons,  a  party  of  Mormons  hav- 
ing wintered  there,  and  then  departed  for  California. 

The  old  trappers  and  hunters  of  the  Pueblo  fort  lived 
entirely  upon  game,  and  a  greater  part  of  the  year  with- 
out bread.  As  soon  as  their  supply  of  meat  was  exhausted, 
they  started  to  the  mountains  with  two  or   three   pack- 


TRAPPERS  253 

animals,  and  brought  back  in  two  or  three  days  loads  of 
venison  and  buffalo. 

The  Arkansas  at  the  Pueblo  is  a  clear,  rapid  river  about 
a  hundred  yards  wide.  The  bottom,  which  is  enclosed  on 
each  side  by  high  bluffs,  is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
across.  In  the  early  days  of  which  I  write,  the  margin 
of  the  stream  was  heavily  timbered  with  cottonwood, 
and  the  tourist  to-day  may  see  the  remnant  of  the  primi- 
tive great  woods,  in  the  huge  isolated  trees  scattered 
around  the  bottom  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka, 
and  Santa  Fe  Railroad  station  of  the  charming  mountain 
city. 

On  each  side  vast  rolling  prairies  stretch  away  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles,  gradually  ascending  on  the  side  towards 
the  mountains,  where  the  highlands  are  sparsely  covered 
with  pihon  and  cedar.  The  lofty  banks  through  which 
the  Arkansas  occasionally  passes  are  of  shale  and  sand- 
stone, rising  precipitously  from  the  water.  Ascending 
the  river  the  country  is  wild  and  broken,  until  it  enters 
the  mountain  region,  where  the  scenery  is  incomparably 
grand  and  imposing.  The  surrounding  prairies  are  natu- 
rally arid  and  sterile,  producing  but  little  vegetation,  and 
the  primitive  grass,  though  of  good  quality,  is  thin  and 
scarce.  Now,  however',  under  a  competent  system  of 
irrigation,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  landscape  is  changed 
from  what  it  was  thirty  years  ago,  and  it  has  all  the  luxu- 
riance of  a  garden. 

The  whole  country,  it  is  claimed,  was  once  possessed 
by  the  Shos-shones,  or  Snake  Indians,  of  whom  the 
Comanches  of  the  Southern  plains  are  a  branch ;  and,  al- 
though many  hundred  miles  divide  their  hunting-grounds, 
they  were  once,  if  not  the  same  people,  tribes  or  bands  of 
that  great  and  powerful  nation.  They  retain  a  language 
in  common,  and  there  is  also  a  striking  analogy  in  many 
of  their  religious  rites  and  ceremonies,  in  their  folk-lore, 


254  THE    OLD    SANTA   FE    TRAIL 

and  in  some  of  their  everyday  customs.  These  facts 
prove,  at  least,  that  there  was  at  one  time  a  very  close 
alliance  which  bound  the  two  tribes  together.  Half  a 
century  ago  they  were,  in  point  of  numbers,  the  two  most 
powerful  nations  in  all  the  numerous  aggregations  of  Ind- 
ians in  the  West ;  the  Comanches  ruling  almost  supreme 
on  the  Eastern  plains,  while  the  Shos-shones  were  the 
dominant  tribe  in  the  country  beyond  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  in  the  mountains  themselves.  Once,  many 
years  ago,  before  the  problem  of  the  relative  strength  of 
the  various  tribes  was  as  well  solved  as  now.  the  Shos- 
shones  were  supposed  to  be  the  most  powerful,  and  nu- 
merically the  most  populous,  tribe  of  Indians  on  the  North 
American  continent. 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  old  Pueblo  fort  at  the 
time  of  its  greatest  business  prosperity,  game  was  scarce  ; 
the  buffalo  had  for  some  years  deserted  the  neighbouring 
prairies,  but  they  were  always  to  be  found  in  the  moun- 
tain-valleys, particularly  in  one  known  as  "  Bayou  Salado," 
which  forty-five  years  ago  abounded  in  elk,  bear,  deer, 
and  antelope. 

The  fort  was  situated  a  few  hundred  yards  above  the 
mouth  of  the  "  Fontaine  qui  Bouille "  River,1  so  called 
from  two  springs  of  mineral  water  near  its  head,  under 
Pike's  Peak,  about  sixty  miles  above  its  mouth. 

As  is  the  case  with  all  the  savage  races  of  the  world, 
the  American  Indians  possess  hereditary  legends,  account- 
ing for  all  the  phenomena  of  nature,  or  aii}r  occurrence 
which  is  beyond  their  comprehension.  The  Shos-shones 
had  the  following  story  to  account  for  the  presence  of 
these  wonderful  springs  in  the  midst  of  their  favourite 
hunting-ground.  The  two  fountains,  one  pouring  forth 
the  sweetest  water  imaginable,  the  other  a  stream  as  bitter 
as  gall,  are  intimately  connected  with  the  cause  of  the 
1  Boiling  Spring  River. 


TRAPPERS  255 

separation  of  the  two  tribes.  Their  legend  thus  runs : 
Many  hundreds  of  winters  ago,  when  the  cottonwoods  on 
the  big  river  were  no  higher  than  arrows,  and  the  prairies 
were  crowded  with  game,  the  red  men  who  hunted  the 
deer  in  the  forests  and  the  buffalo  on  the  plains  all  spoke 
the  same  language,  and  the  pipe  of  peace  breathed  its 
soothing  cloud  whenever  two  parties  of  hunters  met  on 
the  boundless  prairie. 

It  happened  one  day  that  two  hunters  of  different 
nations  met  on  the  bank  of  .a  small  rivulet,  to  which  both 
had  resorted  to  quench  their  thirst.  A  small  stream  of 
water,  rising  from  a  spring  on  a  rock  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  bank,  trickled  over  it  and  fell  splashing  into  the  river. 
One  hunter  sought  the  spring  itself ;  the  other,  tired  by 
his  exertions  in  the  chase,  threw  himself  at  once  to  the 
ground,  and  plunged  his  face  into  the  running  stream. 

The  latter  had  been  unsuccessful  in  the  hunt,  and  per- 
haps his  bad  fortune,  and  the  sight  of  the  fat  deer  Avhich 
the  other  threw  from  his  back  before  he  drank  at  the 
crystal  spring,  caused  a  feeling  of  jealousy  and  ill-humour 
to  take  possession  of  his  mind.  The  other,  on  the  con- 
trary, before  he  satisfied  his  thirst,  raised  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand  a  portion  of  the  water,  and,  lifting  it  toward  the 
sun,  reversed  his  hand,  and  allowed  it  to  fall  upon  the 
ground,  as  a  libation  to  the  Great  Spirit,  who  had  vouch- 
safed him  a  successful  hunt  and  the  blessing  of  the  re- 
freshing water  with  which  he  was  about  to  quench  his 
thirst. 

This  reminder  that  he  had  neglected  the  usual  offering 
onljr  increased  the  feeling  of  envy  and  annoyance  which 
filled  the  unsuccessful  hunter's  heart.  The  Evil  Spirit  at 
that  moment  entering  his  body,  his  temper  fairly  flew 
away,  and  he  sought  some  pretence  to  provoke  a  quarrel 
with  the  other  Indian. 

"  Why    does    a    stranger,"   he    asked,    rising    from    the 


256  THE   OLD   SANTA  EE   TRAIL 

stream,  "  drink  at  the  spring-head,  when  one  to  whom  the 
fountain  belongs  contents  himself  with  the  water  that 
runs  from  it?" 

"  The  Great  Spirit  places  the  cool  water  at  the  spring," 
answered  the  other  hunter,  "  that  his  children  may  drink 
it  pure  and  undehled.  The  running  water  is  for  the 
beasts  which  scour  the  plains.  Ausaqua  is  a  chief  of  the 
Shos-sliones ;  he  drinks  at  the  head  water." 

"The  Shos-shones  is  but  a  tribe  of  the  Comanches,"  re- 
turned the  other  :  "  Wacomish  leads  the  whole  nation. 
Why  does  a  Shos-shone  dare  to  drink  above  him?" 

"  When  the  Manitou  made  his  children,  whether  Shos- 
shone  or  Comanche,  Arapaho,  Cheyenne,  or  Pawnee,  he 
gave  them  buffalo  to  eat,  and  the  pure  water  of  the  foun- 
tain to  quench  their  thirst.  He  said  not  to  one,  '  Drink 
here,'  and  to  another,  '  Drink  there '  ;  but  gave  the  crystal 
spring  to  all,  that  all  might  drink." 

Wacomish  almost  burst  with  rage  as  the  other  spoke; 
but  his  coward  heart  prevented  him  from  provoking  an 
encounter  with  the  calm  Shos-shone.  The  latter,  made 
thirsty  by  the  words  he  had  spoken,  —  for  the  Indian  is 
ever  sparing  of  his  tongue,  —  again  stooped  down  to  the 
spring  to  drink,  when  the  subtle  warrior  of  the  Comanches 
suddenly  threw  himself  upon  the  kneeling  hunter  and, 
forcing  his  head  into  the  bubbling  water,  held  him  down 
with  all  his  strength  until  his  victim  no  longer  struggled : 
his  stiffened  limbs  relaxed,  and  he  fell  forward  over  the 
spring,  drowned. 

Mechanically  the  Comanche  dragged  the  body  a  few 
paces  from  the  water,  and,  as  soon  as  the  head  of  the  dead 
Indian  was  withdrawn,  the  spring  was  suddenly  and 
strangely  disturbed.  Bubbles  sprang  up  from  the  bottom, 
and,  rising  to  the  surface,  escaped  in  hissing  gas.  A  thin 
vapour  arose,  and,  gradually  dissolving,  displayed  to  the 
eyes  of    the   trembling    murderer    the  figure  of    an   aged 


TRAPPERS  257 

Indian,  whose  long,  snowy  hair  and  venerable  beard,  blown 
aside  from  his  breast,  discovered  the  well-known  totem  of 
the  great  Wankanaga,  the  father  of  the  Comanche  and 
Shos-shone  nation. 

Stretching  out  a  war-club  toward  the  Comanche,  the 
figure  thus  addressed  him  :  — 

"  Accursed  murderer  !  While  the  blood  of  the  brave 
Shos-shone  cries  to  the  Great  Spirit  for  vengeance, 
may  the  water  of  thy  tribe  be  rank  and  bitter  in  their 
throats !  "  Thus  saying,  and  swinging  his  ponderous 
war-club  round  his  head,  he  dashed  out  the  brains  of  the 
Comanche,  who  fell  headlong  into  the  spring,  which  from 
that  day  to  this  remains  rank  and  nauseous,  so  that  not 
even  when  half  dead  with  thirst,  can  one  drink  from  it. 

The  good  Wankanaga,  however,  to  perpetuate  the  mem- 
ory of  the  Shos-shone  warrior,  who  was  renowned  in  his 
tribe  for  valour  and  nobleness  of  heart,  struck  with  the 
same  avenging  club  a  hard,  flat  rock  which  overhung  the 
rivulet,  and  forthwith  a  round  clear  basin  opened,  which 
instantly  tilled  with  bubbling,  sparkling  water,  sweet  and 
cool. 

From  that  day  the  two  mighty  tribes  of  the  Shos-shones 
and  Comanches  have  remained  severed  and  ajsart,  although 
a  long  and  bloody  war  followed  the  treacherous  murder. 

The  Indians  regarded  these  wonderful  springs  with  awe. 
The  Arapahoes,  especially,  attributed  to  the  Spirit  of  the 
springs  the  power,  of  ordaining  the  success  or  failure 
of  their  war  expeditions.  As  their  warriors  passed  by 
the  mysterious  pools  when  hunting  their  hereditary 
enemies,  the  Utes,  they  never  failed  to  bestow  their 
votive  offerings  upon  the  spring,  in  order  to  propitiate 
the  Manitou  of  the  strange  fountain,  and  insure  a  fortu- 
nate issue  to  their  path  of  war.  As  late  as  twenty-five 
years  ago,  the  visitor  to  the  place  could  always  find  the 
basin  of  the  spring  filled  with  beads  and  wampum,  pieces 


258  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

of  red  cloth  and  knives,  while  the  surrounding  trees  were 
hung  with  strips  of  deerskin,  cloth,  and  moccasins.  Signs 
were  frequently  observed  in  the  vicinity  of  the  waters 
unmistakably  indicating  that  a  war-dance  had  been  exe- 
cuted there  by  the  Arapahoes  on  their  way  to  the  Valley 
of  Salt,  occupied  by  the  powerful  Utes. 

Never  was  there  such  a  paradise  for  hunters  as  this 
lone  and  solitary  spot  in  the  days  when  the  region  was 
known  only  to  them  and  the  trappers  of  the  great  fur 
companies.  The  shelving  prairie,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
the  springs  are  situated,  is  entirely  surrounded  by  rugged 
mountains  and  contained  two  or  three  acres  of  excellent 
grass,  affording  a  safe  pasture  for  their  animals,  which 
hardly  cared  to  wander  from  such  feeding  and  the  salt 
they  loved  to  lick. 

The  trappers  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  belonged  to  a 
genus  that  has  disappeared.  Forty  years  ago  there  was 
not  a  hole  or  corner  in  the  vast  wilderness  of  the  far 
West  that  had  not  been  explored  by  these  hardy  men. 
From  the  Mississippi  to  the  mouth  of  the  Colorado  of 
the  West,  from  the  frozen  regions  of  the  north  to  the 
Gila  in  Mexico,  the  beaver  hunter  has  set  his  traps  in 
every  creek  and  stream.  The  mountains  and  waters,  in 
many  instances,  still  retain  the  names  assigned  them  by 
those  rude  hunters,  who  were  veritable  pioneers  paving 
the  way  for  the  settlement  of  the  stern  country. 

A  trapper's  camp  in  the  old  days  was  quite  a  picture, 
as  were  all  its  surroundings.  He  did  not  always  take  the 
trouble  to  build  a  shelter,  unless  in  the  winter.  A  couple 
of  deerskins  stretched  over  a  willow  frame  was  considered 
sufficient  to  protect  him  from  the  storm.  Sometimes  he 
contented  himself  with  a  mere  "  breakwind,"  the  rocky 
wall  of  a  canon,  or  large  ravine.  Near  at  hand  he  set  up 
two  poles,  in  the  crotch  of  which  another  was  laid,  where 
he  kept,  out  of  reach  of  the  hungrj'  wolf  and  coyote,  his 


TRAPPERS  259 

meat,  consisting  of  every  variety  afforded  by  the  region 
in  which  he  had  pitched  his  camp.  Under  cover  of  the 
skins  of  the  animals  he  had  killed  hung  his  old-fashioned 
powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch,  while  his  trusty  rifle,  care- 
fully defended  from  the  damp,  was  always  within  reach 
of  his  hand.  Round  his  blazing  fire  at  night  his  com- 
panions, if  he  had  any,  were  other  trappers  on  the  same 
stream ;  and,  while  engaged  in  cleaning  their  arms,  mak- 
ing and  mending  moccasins,  or  running  bullets,  they  told 
long  yarns,  until  the  lateness  of  the  hour  warned  them  to 
crawl  under  their  blankets. 

Not  far  from  the  camp,  his  animals,  well  hobbled,  fed 
in  sight ;  for  nothing  did  a  hunter  dread  more  than  a 
visit  from  horse-stealing  Indians,  and  to  be  afoot  was  the 
acme  of  misery. 

Some  hunters  who  bad  married  squaws  carried  about 
with  them  regular  buffalo-skin  lodges,  which  their  wives 
took  care  of,  according  to  Indian  etiquette. 

The  old-time  trappers  more  nearly  approximated  the 
primitive  savage,  perhaps,  than  any  other  class  of  civil- 
ized men.  Their  lives  being  spent  in  the  remote  wilder- 
ness of  the  mountains,  frequently  with  no  other  companion 
than  Nature  herself,  their  habits  and  character  often  as- 
sumed a  most  singular  cast  of  simplicity,  mingled  with 
ferocity,  that  appeared  to  take  its  colouring  from  the 
scenes  and  objects  which  surrounded  them.  Having  no 
wants  save  those  of  nature,  their  sole  concern  was  to 
provide  sufficient  food  to  support  life,  and  the  necessary 
clothing  to  protect  them  from  the  sometimes  rigorous 
climate. 

The  costume  of  the  average  trapper  was  a  hunting- 
shirt  of  dressed  buckskin,  with  long,  fringed  trousers  of 
the  same  material,  decorated  with  porcupine  quills.  A 
flexible  hat  and  moccasins  covered  his  extremities,  and 
over  his  left  shoulder  and  under  his  right  arm  hung  his 


260  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch.,  in  which  he  also  carried 
flint,  steel,  and  other  odds  and  ends.  Round  his  waist  he 
wore  a  belt,  in  which  was  stuck  a  large  knife  in  a  sheath 
of  buffalo-hide,  made  fast  to  the  belt  by  a  chain  or  guard 
of  steel.  It  also  supported  a  little  buckskin  case,  which 
contained  a  whetstone,  a  very  necessary  article ;  for  in 
taking  off  the  hides  of  the  beaver  a  sharp  knife  was  re- 
quired. His  pipe-holder  hung  around  his  neck,  and  was 
generally  a  gage  cVamour,  a  triumph  of  squaw  workman- 
ship, wrought  with  beads  and  porcupine  quills,  often  made 
in  the  shape  of  a  heart. 

Necessarily  keen  observers  of  nature,  they  rivalled  the 
beasts  of  prey  in  discovering  the  haunts  and  habits  of 
game,  and  in  their  skill  and  cunning  in  capturing  it 
outwitted  the  Indian  himself.  Constantly  exposed  to 
perils  of  all  kinds,  they  became  callous  to  any  feeling 
of  danger,  and  were  firm  friends  or  bitter  enemies.  It 
was  a  "word  and  a  blow,"  the  blow  often  coming  first. 
Strong,  active,  hardy  as  bears,  expert  in  the  use  of  their 
weapons,  they  were  just  what  an  uncivilized  white  man 
might  be  supposed  to  be  under  conditions  where  he  must 
depend  upon  his  instincts  for  the  support  of  life. 

Having  determined  upon  the  locality  of  his  trapping- 
ground,  the  hunter  started  off,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes 
three  or  four  of  them  in  company,  as  soon  as  the  breaking 
of  the  ice  in  the  streams  would  permit,  if  he  was  to  go 
very  far  north.  Arriving  on  the  spot  he  has  selected  for 
his  permanent  camp,  the  first  thing  to  be  done,  after  he 
had  settled  himself,  was  to  follow  the  windings  of  the 
creeks  and  rivers,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  "signs." 
If  he  saw  a  prostrate  cottonwood  tree,  he  carefully  ex- 
amined it  to  learn  whether  it  was  the  work  of  beaver,  and 
if  so  whether  thrown  for  the  purpose  of  food,  or  to  dam 
the  stream.  The  track  of  the  animal  on  the  mud  or  sand 
under  the  banks  was  also  examined  ;   if  the  sign  was  fresh, 


TRAPPERS  261 

he  set  his  trap  in  the  run  of  the  animal,  hiding  it  under 
water,  and  attaching  it  by  a  stout  chain  to  a  picket  driven 
in  the  bank,  or  to  a  bush  or  tree.  A  float-stick  was  made 
fast  to  the  trap  by  a  cord  a  few  feet  long,  which,  if  the 
animal  carried  away  the  trap,  would  float  on  the  water 
and  point  out  its  position.  The  trap  was  baited  with 
"  medicine,"  an  oily  substance  obtained  from  the  beaver. 
A  stick  was  dipped  in  this  and  planted  over  the  trap,  and 
the  beaver,  attracted  by  the  smell,  put  his  leg  into  the  trap 
and  was  caught. 

When  a  beaver  lodge  was  discovered,  the  trap  was  set 
at  the  edge  of  the  dam,  at  a  point  where  the  animal  passed 
from  deep  to  shoal  water,  and  always  under  the  surface. 
Early  in  the  morning,  the  hunter  mounted  his  mule  and 
examined  all  his  traps. 

The  beaver  is  exceedingly  wily,  and  if  by  scent  or 
sound  or  sight  he  had  any  intimation  of  the  presence  of  a 
trapper,  he  put  at  defiance  all  efforts  to  capture  him,  con- 
sequently it  was  necessary  to  practise  great  caution  when 
in  tiie  neighbourhood  of  one  of  their  lodges.  The  trapper 
then  avoided  riding  for  fear  the  sound  of  his  horse's  feet 
might  strike  dismay  among  the  furry  inhabitants  under 
the  water,  and,  instead  of  walking  on  the  ground,  he 
waded  in  the  stream,  lest  he  should  leave  a  scent  behind 
by  which  he  might  be  discovered. 

In  the  days  of  the  great  fur  companies,  trappers  were 
of  two  kinds,  —  the  hired  hand  and  the  free  trapper.  The 
former  was  hired  by  the  company,  which  supplied  him 
with  everything  necessary,  and  paid  him  a  certain  price 
for  his  furs  and  peltries.  The  other  hunted  on  his 
own  hook,  owned  his  animals  and  traps,  went  where  he 
pleased,  and  sold  to  whom  he  chose. 

During  the  hunting  season,  regardless  of  the  Indians, 
the  fearless  trapper  wandered  far  and  near  in  search  of 
signs.     His  nerves  were  in  a  state  of  tension,  his  mind 


262  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

always  clear,  and  his  head  cool.  His  trained  eye  scruti- 
nized every  part  of  the  country,  and  in  an  instant  he  could 
detect  anything  that  was  strange.  A  turned  leaf,  a  blade 
of  grass  pressed  down,  the  uneasiness  of  wild  animals,  the 
actions  of  the  birds,  were  all  to  him  paragraphs  written  in 
Nature's  legible  hand. 

All  the  wits  of  the  wily  savage  were  called  into  play  to 
gain  an  advantage  over  the  plucky  white  man ;  but  with 
the  resources  natural  to  a  civilized  mind,  the  hunter  seldom 
failed,  under  equal  chance,  to  circumvent  the  cunning  of 
the  red  man.  Sometimes,  following  his  trail  for  weeks, 
the  Indian  watched  him  set  his  traps  on  some  timbered 
stream,  and  crawling  up  the  bed  of  it,  so  that  he  left 
no  tracks,  he  lay  in  the  bushes  until  his  victim  came  to 
examine  his  traps.  Then,  when  he  approached  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  ambush,  whiz  !  flew  the  home-drawn  arrow, 
which  never  failed  at  such  close  quarters  to  bring  the  un- 
suspecting hunter  to  the  ground.  But  for  one  white  scalp 
that  dangled  in  the  smoke  of  an  Indian's  lodge,  a  dozen 
black  ones,  at  the  end  of  the  season,  ornamented  the  camp- 
fires  of  the  rendezvous  where  the  furs  were  sold. 

In  the  camp,  if  he  was  a  very  successful  hunter,  all  the 
appliances  for  preparing  the  skins  for  market  were  at 
hand ;  if  he  had  a  squaw  for  a  wife,  she  did  all  the  hard 
work,  as  usual.  Close  to  the  entrance  of  their  skin 
lodge  was  the  "  graining-block,"  a  log  of  wood  with  the 
bark  stripped  off  and  perfectly  smooth,  set  obliquely  in 
the  ground,  on  which  the  hair  was  removed  from  the 
deerskins  which  furnished  moccasins  and  dresses  for  both 
herself  and  her  husband.  Then  there  were  stretching 
frames  on  which  the  skins  were  placed  to  undergo  the 
process  of  "  dubbing "  ;  that  is,  the  removal  of  all  flesh 
and  fatty  particles  adhering  to  the  skin.  The  "dubber" 
was  made  of  the  stock  of  an  elk's  horn,  with  a  piece  of 
iron  or  steel  inserted  in  the  end,  forming  a  sharp  knife. 


■' 

,    ■  San 

I 
■  ul  o 

■pod,  in  •' 

thoj  ,  ii  ready  f 

bject  o 

id ;   then  they  fell  -     • 

he  expei  •      tnirna] 


J      . 


:     i 

.     i        '  i       ing  ofl  j  thai 

.      . 

,  .  |  ;  ,  ]  ,  , 

.     .  .  ,  ; 


HUNTING   ON   A   BEAVER   STREAM,   1840 


TKAPPERS  263 

The  last  process  the  deerskin  underwent  before  it  was 
soft  and  pliable  enough  for  making  into  garments,  was  the 
"  smoking."  This  was  effected  by  digging  a  round  hole  in 
the  ground,  and  lighting  in  it  an  armful  of  rotten  wood  or 
punk  ;  then  sticks  were  planted  around  the  hole,  and  their 
tops  brought  together  and  tied.  The  skins  were  placed 
on  this  frame,  and  all  openings  by  which  the  smoke  might 
escape  being  carefully  stopped,  in  ten  or  twelve  hours  they 
were  thoroughly  cured  and  ready  for  immediate  use. 

The  beaver  was  the  main  object  of  the  hunter's  quest ; 
its  skins  were  once  worth  from  six  to  eight  dollars  a 
pound ;  then  they  fell  to  only  one  dollar,  which  hardly 
paid  the  expenses  of  traps,  animals,  and  equipment  for  the 
hunt,  and  was  certainly  no  adequate  remuneration  for  the 
hardships,  toil,  and  danger  undergone  by  the  trappers. 

The  beaver  was  once  found  in  every  part  of  North 
America,  from  Canada  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  but  has 
so  retired  from  the  encroachments  of  civilized  man,  that 
it  is  only  to  be  met  with  occasionally  on  some  tributary  to 
the  remote  mountain  streams. 

The  old  trappers  always  aimed  to  set  their  traps  so 
that  the  beaver  would  drown  when  taken.  This  was  ac- 
complished by  sinking  the  trap  several  inches  under  water, 
and  driving  a  stake  through  a  ring  on  the  end  of  the  chain 
into  the  bottom  of  the  creek.  When  the  beaver  finds 
himself  caught,  he  pitches  and  plunges  about  until  his 
strength  is  exhausted,  when  he  sinks  down  and  is 
drowned,  but  if  he  succeeds  in  getting  to  the  shore,  he 
always  extricates  himself  by  gnawing  off  the  leg  that  is 
in  the  jaws  of  the  trap. 

The  captured  animals  were  skinned,  and  the  tails,  which 
are  a  great  dainty,  carefully  packed  into  camp.  The  skin 
was  then  stretched  over  a  hoop  or  framework  of  willow 
twigs  and  allowed  to  dry,  the  flesh  and  fatty  substance 
adhering  being  first  carefully  scraped  off.     When  dry,  it 


264  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

was  folded  into  a  square  sheet,  the  far  turned  inwards, 
and  the  bundle,  containing  twenty  skins,  tightly  pressed 
and  tied,  was  ready  for  transportation.  The  beaver  after 
the  hide  is  taken  off  weighs  about  twelve  pounds,  and 
its  flesh,  although  a  little  musky,  is  very  fine.  Its  tail, 
which  is  flat  and  oval  in  shape,  is  covered  with  scales 
about  the  size  of  those  of  a  salmon.  It  was  a  great  deli- 
cacy in  the  estimation  of  the  old  trapper ;  he  separated 
it  from  the  body,  thrust  a  stick  in  one  end  of  it,  and  held 
it  before  the  fire  with  the  scales  on.  In  a  few  moments 
large  blisters  rose  on  the  surface,  which  were  very  easily 
removed.  The  tail  was  then  perfectly  white,  and  deli- 
cious. Next  to  the  tail  the  liver  was  another  favourite  of 
the  trapper,  and  when  properly  cooked  it  constituted  a 
delightful  repast. 

After  the  season  was  over,  or  the  hunter  had  loaded  all 
his  pack-animals,  he  proceeded  to  the  "  rendezvous,"  where 
the  buyers  were  to  congregate  for  the  purchase  of  the  fur, 
the  locality  of  which  had  been  agreed  upon  when  the 
hunters  started  out  on  their  expedition.  One  of  these 
was  at  Bent's  old  fort  and  one  at  Pueblo ;  another  at 
"  Brown's  Hole "  on  Green  River,  and  there  were  many 
more  on  the  great  streams  and  in  the  mountains.  There 
the  agents  of  the  fur  companies  and  traders  waited  for  the 
arrival  of  the  trappers,  with  such  an  assortment  of  goods  as 
the  hardy  men  required,  including,  of  course,  an  immense 
supply  of  whiskey.  The  trappers  dropped  in  day  after 
day,  in  small  bands,  packing  their  loads  of  beaver-skins, 
not  infrequently  to  the  value  of  a  thousand  dollars  each, 
the  result  of  one  hunt. 

The  rendezvous  was  frequently  a  continuous  scene  of 
gambling,  brawling,  and  fighting,  so  long  as  the  improvi- 
dent trapper's  money  lasted.  Seated  around  the  large 
camp-fires,  cross-legged  in  Indian  fashion,  with  a  blanket 
or  buffalo-robe  spread  before  them,  groups  were  playing 


TRAPPERS  265 

cards,  —  euchre,  seven-up,  and  poker,  the  regular  mountain 
games.  The  usual  stakes  were  beaver-skins,  which  were 
current  as  coin.  When  their  fur  was  all  gone,  their  horses, 
mules,  rifles,  shirts,  hunting  packs,  and  trousers  were 
staked.  Daring  professional  gamblers  made  the  rounds 
of  the  camps,  challenging  each  other  to  play  for  the  trap- 
per's highest  stakes,  —  his  horse,  or  his  squaw,  if  he  had 
one,  —  and  it  is  told  of  one  great  time  that  two  old  trappers 
played  for  one  another's  scalps!  "There  goes  hoss  and 
beaver,"  was  a  common  mountain  expression  when  any 
severe  loss  was  sustained,  and  shortly  "  hoss  and  beaver  " 
found  their  way  into  the  pockets  of  the  unconscionable 
gamblers. 

Frequently  a  trapper  would  squander  the  entire  product 
of  his  hunt,  amounting  to  hundreds  of  dollars,  in  a  couple 
of  hours.  Then,  supplied  with  another  outfit,  he  left 
the  rendezvous  for  another  expedition,  which  had  the 
same  result  time  after  time,  although  one  good  hunt  would 
have  enabled  him  to  return  to  the  settlements  and  live  a 
life  of  comparative  ease. 

It  is  told  of  one  old  Canadian  trapper,  who  had  re- 
ceived as  much  as  fifteen  thousand  dollars  for  beaver 
during  his  life  in  the  mountains,  extending  over  twenty 
years,  that  each  season  he  had  resolved  in  his  mind  to  go 
back  to  Canada,  and  with  this  object  in  view  always  con- 
verted his  furs  into  cash ;  but  a  fortnight  at  the  rendez- 
vous always  "  cleaned  him  out,"  and  at  the  end  of  the 
twenty  years  he  had  not  even  enough  credit  to  get  a  plug 
of  tobacco. 

Trading  with  the  Indians  in  the  primitive  days  of  the 
border  was  just  what  the  word  signifies  in  its  radical 
interpretation,  —  a  system  of  barter  exclusively.  No  money 
was  used  in  the  transaction,  as  it  was  long  afterward 
before  the  savages  began  to  learn  something  of  the  value 
of  currency  from  their  connection  with  the  sutler's  and 


266  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

agency  stores  established  on  reservations  and  at  military 
posts  on  the  plains  and  in  the  mountains.  In  the  early 
days,  if  an  Indian  by  any  chance  happened  to  get  posses- 
sion of  a  piece  of  money  (only  gold  or  silver  was  recog- 
nized as  a  medium  of  exchange  in  the  remote  West),  he 
would  immediately  fashion  it  into  some  kind  of  an  orna- 
ment with  which  to  adorn  his  person.  Some  tribes,  how- 
ever, did  indulge  in  a  sort  of  currency,  worthless  except 
among  themselves.  This  consisted  of  rare  shells,  such 
as  the  Oligachuck,  so  called,  of  the  Pacific  coast  nations, 
used  by  them  within  my  own  recollection,  as  late  as 
1858. 

The  poor  Indian,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was 
generally  outrageously  swindled ;  in  fact,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe,  always.  I  never  was  present  on  an  occasion 
when  he  was  not. 

The  savage's  idea  of  values  was  very  crude  until  the 
government,  in  attempting  to  civilize  and  make  a  gentle- 
man of  him,  has  transformed  him  into  a  bewildered 
child.  Very  soon  after  his  connection  with  the  white 
trader,  he  learned  that  a  gun  was  more  valuable  than  a 
knife  ;  but  of  their  relative  cost  to  manufacture  he  had 
no  idea.  For  these  reasons,  obviously,  he  was  always  at 
the  mercy  of  the  unscrupulous  trader  who  came  to  his 
village,  or  met  him  at  the  rendezvous  to  barter  for  his 
furs.  I  know  that  the  price  of  every  article  he  desired 
was  fixed  by  the  trader,  and  never  by  the  Indian,  con- 
sequently he  rarely  got  the  best  of  the  bargain. 

Uncle  John  Smith,  Kit  Carson,  L.  B.  Maxwell,  Uncle 
Dick  Wooton,  and  a  host  of  other  well-known  Indian 
traders,  long  since  dead,  have  often  told  me  that  the  first 
thing  they  did  on  entering  a  village  with  a  pack-load  of 
trinkets  to  barter,  in  the  earlier  dajrs  before  the  whites  had 
encroached  to  any  great  extent,  was  to  arrange  a  schedule 
of  prices.    They  would  gather  a  large  number  of  sticks,  each 


TRAPPERS  267 

one  representing  an  article  they  had  brought.  With  these 
crude  symbols  the  Indian  made  himself  familiar  in  a  little 
while,  and  when  this  preliminary  arrangement  had  been 
completed,  the  trading  began.  The  Indian,  for  instance, 
would  place  a  buffalo-robe  on  the  ground  ;  then  the  trader 
commenced  to  lay  down  a  number  of  the  sticks,  represent- 
ing what  he  was  willing  to  give  for  the  robe.  The  Indian 
revolved  the  transaction  in  his  mind  until  he  thought  he 
was  getting  a  fair  equivalent  according  to  his  ideas,  then 
the  bargain  was  made.  It  was  claimed  by  these  old  traders, 
when  they  related  this  to  me,  that  the  savage  generally 
was  not  satisfied,  always  insisting  upon  having  more  sticks 
placed  on  the  pile.  I  suspect,  however,  that  the  trader  was 
ever  prepared  for  this,  and  never  gave  more  than  he  origi- 
nally intended.  The  price  of  that  initial  robe  having  been 
determined  on,  it  governed  the  price  of  all  the  rest  for  the 
whole  trade,  regardless  of  size  or  fineness,  for  that  day. 
What  was  traded  for  was  then  placed  by  the  Indian  on 
one  side  of  the  lodge,  and  the  trader  put  what  he  was  to 
give  on  the  other.  After  prices  had  been  agreed  upon, 
business  went  on  very  rapidly,  and  many  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  valuable  furs  were  soon  collected  by  the  suc- 
cessful trader,  which  he  shipped  to  St.  Louis  and- con- 
verted into  gold. 

In  a  few  years,  relatively,  the  Indian  began  to  appreciate 
the  value  of  our  medium  of  exchange  and  the  power  it 
gave  him  to  secure  at  the  stores  in  the  widely  scattered 
hamlets  and  at  the  military  posts  on  the  plains,  those  things 
he  coveted,  at  a  fairer  equivalent  than  in  the  uncertain 
and  complicated  method  of  direct  barter.  It  was  not  very 
long  after  the  advent  of  the  overland  coaches  on  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  that  our  currency,  even  the  greenbacks,  had 
assumed  a  value  to  the  savage,  which  he  at  least  partially 
understood.  Whenever  the  Indians  successfully  raided 
the  stages  the  mail  sacks  were  no  longer  torn  to  pieces  or 


268  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

thrown  aside  as  worthless,  but  every  letter  was  carefully 
scrutinized  for  possible  bills. 

I  well  remember,  when  the  small  copper  cent,  with  its 
spread  eagle  upon  it,  was  first  issued,  about  the  year  1857, 
how  the  soldiers  of  a  frontier  garrison  where  I  was 
stationed  at  the  time  palmed  them  off  upon  the  simple 
savages  as  two  dollar  and  a  half  gold  pieces,  which  they 
resembled  as  long  as  they  retained  their  brightness,  and 
with  which  the  Indians  were  familiar,  as  many  were 
received  by  the  troops  from  the  paymaster  every  two 
months,  the  savages  receiving  them  in  turn  for  horses  and 
other  things  purchased  of  them  by  the  soldiers. 

I  have  known  of  Indians  who  gave  nuggets  of  gold  for 
common  calico  shirts  costing  two  dollars  in  that  region 
and  seventy-five  cents  in  the  States,  while  the  lump  of 
precious  metal  was  worth,  perhaps,  five  or  seven  dollars. 
As  late  as  twenty-eight  years  ago,  I  have  traded  for  beau- 
tifully smoke-tanned  and  porcupine-embroidered  buffalo- 
robes  for  my  own  use,  giving  in  exchange  a  mere  loaf  of 
bread  or  a  cupful  of  brown  sugar. 

Very  early  in  the  history  of  the  United  States,  in  1786, 
the  government,  under  the  authority  of  Congress,  estab- 
lished a  plan  of  trade  with  the  Indians.  It  comprised  sup- 
plying all  their  physical  wants  without  profit ;  factories, 
or  stations  as  they  were  called,  were  erected  at  points  that 
were  then  on  the  remote  frontier  ;  where  factors,  clerks, 
and  interpreters  were  stationed.  The  factors  furnished 
goods  of  all  kinds  to  the  Indians,  and  received  from  them 
in  exchange  furs  and  peltries.  There  was  an  officer  in 
charge  of  all  these  stations  called  the  superintendent  of 
Indian  trade,  appointed  by  the  President.  As  far  back 
as  1821,  there  were  stations  at  Prairie  du  Chien,  Fort 
Edward,  Fort  Osage,  with  branches  at  Chicago,  Green 
Bay  in  Arkansas,  on  the  Red  River,  and  other  places  in 
the  then  far  West.     These    stations  were  movable,   and 


TRAPPERS  269 

changed  from  time  to  time  to  suit  the  convenience  of  the 
Indians.  In  1822  the  whole  system  was  abolished  by 
act  of  Congress,  and  its  affairs  wound  up,  the  American 
Fur  Company,  the  Missouri  Fur  Company,  and  a  host  of 
others  having  by  that  time  become  powerful.  Like  the 
great  corporations  of  to-day,  they  succeeded  in  supplanting 
the  government  establishments.  Of  course,  the  Indians 
of  the  remote  plains,  which  included  all  the  vast  region 
west  of  the  Missouri  River,  never  had  the  benefits  of  the 
government  trading  establishments,  but  were  left  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  old  plainsmen  and  trappers. 

Until  the  railroad  reached  the  mountains,  when  the 
march  of  a  wonderful  immigration  closely  followed,  usurp-, 
ing  the  lands  claimed  by  the  savages,  and  the  latter  were 
driven,  perforce,  upon  reservations,  the  winter  camps  of 
the  Kiowas,  Arapahoes,  and  Cheyennes  were  strung  along 
the  Old  Trail  for  miles,  wherever  a  belt  of  timber  on  the 
margin  of  the  Arkansas,  or  its  tributaries,  could  be  found 
large  enough  to  furnish  fuel  for  domestic  purposes  and 
cottonwood  bark  for  the  vast  herds  of  ponies  in  the  severe 
snow-storms. 

At  these  various  points  the  Indians  congregated  to 
trade  with  the  whites.  As  stated,  Bent's  Fort,  the  Pue- 
blo Fort,  and  Big  Timbers  were  favourite  resorts,  and  the 
trappers  and  old  hunters  passed  a  lively  three  or  four 
months  every  year,  indulging  in  the  amusements  I  have 
referred  to.  They  were  also  wonderful  story-tellers,  and 
around  their  camp-fires  many  a  tale  of  terrible  adventure 
with  Indians  and  vicious  animals  was  nightly  related. 

Baptiste  Brown  was  one  of  the  most  famous  trappers. 
Few  men  had  seen  more  of  wild  life  in  the  great  prairie 
wilderness.  He  had  hunted  with  nearly  every  tribe  of 
Indians  on  the  plains  and  in  the  mountains,  was  often  at 
Bent's  Fort,  and  his  soul-stirring  narratives  made  him 
a  most  welcome  guest  at  the  camp-fire. 


270  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

He  lived  most  of  his  time  in  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains, in  a  beautiful  little  valley  named  after  him  "  Brown's 
Hole."  It  has  a  place  on  the  maps  to-day,  and  is  on 
what  was  then  called  Prairie  River,  or  Sheetskadee,  by 
the  Indians ;  it  is  now  known  as  Green  River,  and  is  the 
source  of  the  great  Colorado. 

The  valley,  which  is  several  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level,  is  about  fifteen  miles  in  circumference,  surrounded 
by  lofty  hills,  and  is  aptly,  though  not  elegantly,  char- 
acterized as  a  "hole."  The  mountain-grass  is  of  the 
most  nutritious  quality  ;  groves  of  cottonwood  trees  and 
willows  are  scattered  through  the  sequestered  spot,  and 
the  river,  which  enters  it  from  the  north,  is  a  magnificent 
stream  ;  in  fact,  it  is  the  very  ideal  of  a  hunter's  head- 
quarters. 

The  temperature  is  very  equable,  and  at  one  time,  years 
ago,  hundreds  of  trappers  made  it  their  winter  quarters. 
Indians,  too,  of  all  the  northern  tribes,  but  more  especially 
the  Arapahoes,  frequented  it  to  trade  with  the  white  men. 

Baptiste  Brown  was  a  Canadian  who  spoke  villanous 
French  and  worse  English  ;  his  vocabulary  being  largely 
interspersed  with  "enfant  de  garce"-  "  sacre"  "  sacre 
enfant,"  and  "  damn "  until  it  was  a  difficult  matter  to 
tell  what  he  was  talking  about. 

He  was  married  to  an  Arapahoe  squaw,  and  his  strange 
wooing  and  winning  of  the  dusky  maiden  is  a  thrilling 
love-story. 

Among  the  maidens  who  came  with  the  Arapahoes, 
when  that  tribe  made  a  visit  to  "  Brown's  Hole "  one 
winter  for  the  purpose  of  trading  with  the  whites,  was  a 
young,  merry,  and  very  handsome  girl,  named  "  Unami," 
who  after  a  few  interviews  completely  captured  Baptiste's 
heart.  Nothing  was  more  common,  as  I  have  stated,  than 
marriages  between  the  trappers  and  a  beautiful  redskin. 
Isolated  absolutely  from  women  of  his  own  colour,  the  poor 


TRAPPERS  271 

mountaineer  forgets  he  is  white,  which,  considering  the 
embrowning  influence  of  constant  exposure  and  sunlight, 
is  not  so  marvellous  after  all.  For  a  portion  of  the  year 
there  is  no  hunting,  and  then  idleness  is  the  order  of  the 
day.  At  such  times  the  mountaineer  visits  the  lodges  of 
his  dark  neighbours  for  amusement,  and  in  the  spirited 
dance  many  a  heart  is  lost  to  the  squaws.  The  young 
trapper,  like  other  enamoured  ones  of  his  sex  in  civiliza- 
tion, lingers  around  the  house  of  his  fair  sweetheart  while 
she  transforms  the  soft  skin  of  the  doe  into  moccasins, 
ornamenting  them  richly  with  glittering  beads  or  the 
coloured  quills  of  the  porcupine,  all  the  time  lightening 
the  long  hours  with  the  plain-songs  of  their  tribe.  It 
was  upon  an  occasion  of  this  character  that  Baptiste, 
then  in  the  prime  of  his  youthful  manhood,  first  loved 
the  dark-eyed  Arapahoe. 

The  course  open  to  him  was  to  woo  and  win  her ;  but 
alas  !  savage  papas  are  just  like  fathers  in  the  best  civili- 
zation—  the  only  difference  between  them  is  that  the 
former  are  more  open  and  matter-of-fact,  since  in  savage 
etiquette  a  consideration  is  required  in  exchange  for  the 
daughter,  which -belongs  exclusively  to  the  parent,  and 
must  be  of  equal  marketable  value  to  the  girl. 

The  usual  method  is  to  select  your  best  horse,  take  him 
to  the  lodge  of  your  inamorata's  parents,  tie  him  to  a  tree, 
and  walk  away.  If  the  animal  is  considered  a  fair  ex- 
change, matters  are  soon  settled  satisfactorily  ;  if  not,  other 
gifts  must  be  added. 

At  this  juncture  poor  Baptiste  was  in  a  bad  fix  ;  he 
had  disposed  of  all  his  season's  earnings  for  his  winter's 
subsistence,  much  of  which  consisted  of  an  ample  supply 
of  whiskey  and  tobacco ;  so  he  had  nothing  left  wherewith 
to  purchase  the  indispensable  horse.  Without  the  animal 
no  wife  was  to  be  had,  and  he  was  in  a  terrible  predica- 
ment ;   for  the  hunting  season  was  long  since  over,  and  it 


272  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

wanted  a  whole  month  of  the  time  for  a  new  starting 
out. 

Baptiste  was  a  very  determined  man,  however,  and  he 
.shouldered  his  rifle,  intent  on  accomplishing  by  a  laborious 
prosecution  of  the  chase  the  means  of  winning  his  loved 
one  from  her  parents,  notwithstanding  that  the  elements 
and  the  times  were  against  him.  He  worked  industriously, 
and  after  many  days  was  rewarded  by  a  goodly  supply  of 
beavers,  otters,  and  mink  which  he  had  trapped,  besides 
many  a  deerskin  whose  wearer  he  had  shot.  Returning 
to  his  lodge,  where  he  cached  his  peltry,  he  again  started 
out  for  the  forest  with  hope  filling  his  heart.  Three 
weeks  passed  in  indifferent  success,  when  one  morning, 
having  entered  a  deep  canon,  which  evidently  led  out  to 
an  open  prairie  where  he  thought  game  might  be  found, 
while  busy  cutting  his  way  through  a  thicket  of  briers 
with  his  knife,  he  suddenly  came  upon  a  little  valley, 
where  he  saw  what  caused  him  to  retrace  his  footsteps 
into  the  thicket. 

And  here  it  is  necessary  to  relate  a  custom  peculiar  to  all 
Indian  tribes.  No  young  man,  though  his  father  were  the 
greatest  chief  in  the  nation,  can  range  himself  among  the 
warriors,  be  entitled  to  enter  the  marriage  state,  or  enjoy 
any  other  rights  of  savage  citizenship  until  he  shall  have 
performed  some  act  of  personal  bravery  and  daring,  or  be 
sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  his  enemies.  In  the  early 
springtime,  therefore,  all  the  young  men  who  are  of  the 
proper  age  band  themselves  together  and  take  to  the  for- 
est in  search  —  like  the  knight-errant  of  old' — of  advent- 
ure and  danger.  Having  decided  upon  a  secluded  and 
secret  spot,  they  collect  a  number  of  poles  from  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  in  length,  and,  lashing  them  together  at  the 
small  ends,  form  a  huge  conical  lodge,  which  they  cover 
with  grass  and  boughs.  Inside  they  deposit  various 
articles,  with  which  to  "  make  medicine."  or  as  a  propitia- 


TRAPPERS  273 

tory  offering  to  the  Great  Spirit ;  generally  a  green  buf- 
falo head,  kettles,  scalps,  blankets,  and  other  things  of 
value,  of  which  the  most  prominent  and  revered  is  the 
sacred  pipe.  The  party  then  enters  the  lodge  and  the  first 
ceremony  is  smoking  this  pipe.  One  of  the  young  men 
fills  it  with  tobacco  and  herbs,  places  a  coal  on  it  from 
the  fire  that  has  been  already  kindled  in. the  lodge,  and, 
taking  the  stem  in  his  mouth,  inhales  the  smoke  and  ex- 
pels it  through  his  nostrils.  The  ground  is  touched 
with  the  bowl,  the  four  points  of  the  compass  are  in  turn' 
saluted,  and  with  various  ceremonies  it  makes  the  round  of 
the  lodge.  After  many  days  of  feasting  and  dancing  the 
party  is  ready  for  a  campaign,  when  they  abandon  the 
lodge,  and  it  is  death  for  any  one  else  to  enter,  or  by  any 
means  to  desecrate  it  while  its  projectors  are  absent. 

It  was  upon  one  of  these  mystic  lodges  that  Baptiste 
had  accidentally  stumbled,  and  strange  thoughts  flashed 
through  his  mind :  for  within  the  sacred  place  were  arti- 
cles, doubtless,  of  value  more  than  sufficient  to  purchase 
the  necessary  horse  with  which  he  could  win  the  fair 
Unami.  Baptiste  was  sorely  tempted,  but  there  was  an 
instinctive  respect  for  religion  in  the  minds  of  the  old 
trappers,  and  Brown  had  too  much  honour  to  think  of  rob- 
bing the  Indian  temple,  although  he  distinctly  remembered 
a  time  when  a  poor  white  trapper,  having  been  robbed 
of  his  poncho  at  the  beginning  of  winter,  made  free 
with  a  blanket  he  had  found  in  one  of  these  Arapahoe 
sacred  lodges.  When  he  was  brought  before  the  medi- 
cine men  of  the  tribe,  charged  with  the  sacrilege,  his 
defence,  that,  having  been  robbed,  the  Great  Spirit  took 
pity  on  him  and  pointed  out  the  blanket  and  ordered 
him  to  clothe  himself,  was  considered  good,  on  the 
theory  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  an  undoubted  right  to 
give  away  his  own  property ;  consequently  the  trapper 
was  set  free. 


274  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Brown,  after  considering  the  case,  was  about  to  move 
away,  when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  turning 
round  there  stood  before  him  an  Indian  in  full  war-paint. 

The  greeting  was  friendly,  for  the  young  savage  was 
the  brother  of  Baptiste's  love,  to  whom  he  had  given 
many  valuable  presents  during  the  past  season. 

"  My  white  brother  is  very  wakeful  ;   he  rises  early." 

Baptiste  laughed,  and  replied  :  "  Yes,  because  my  lodge 
is  empty.  If  I  had  Unami  for  a  wife,  I  would  not  have 
to  get  out  before  the  sun  ;  and  I  would  always  have  a 
soft  seat  for  her  brother  ;  he  will  be  a  great  warrior." 

The  j'oung  brave  shook  his  head  gravely,  as  he  pointed 
to  his  belt,  Avhere  not  a  scalp  was  to  be  seen,  and  said  : 
"  Five  moons  have  gone  to  sleep  and  the  Arapahoe 
hatchet  has  not  been  raised.  The  Blackfeet  are  dogs,  and 
hide  in  their  holes." 

Without  adding  anything  to  this  hint  that  none  of  the 
young  men  had  been  able  to  fulfil  their  vows,  the  discon- 
solate savage  led  the  way  to  the  camp  of  the  other 
Arapahoes,  his  companions  in  the  quest  for  scalps. 
Baptiste  was  very  glad  to  see  the  face  of  a  fellow-creature 
once  more,  and  he  cheerfully  followed  the  footsteps  of  the 
young  brave,  which  were  directed  away  from  the  medi- 
cine lodge  toward  the  rocky  canon  which  he  had  already 
travelled  that  morning,  where  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
dark  defile,  and  within  twenty  feet  of  where  he  had  re- 
cently passed,  was  the  camp  of  the  disappointed  band. 
Baptiste  was  cordially  received,  and  invited  to  share  the 
meal  of  which  the  party  were  about  to  partake,  after 
which  the  pipe  was  passed  around.  In  a  little  while  the 
Indians  began  to  talk  among  themselves  by  signs,  which 
made  Baptiste  feel  somewhat  uncomfortable,  for  it  was 
apparent  that  he  was  the  object  of  their  interest. 

They  had  argued  that  Brown's  skin  indicated  that  he 
belonged  to  the  great  tribe  of  their  natural  enemies,  and 


TRAPPERS  275 

with  the  blood  of  a  white  on  their  garments,  they  would 
have  fulfilled  the  terms  of  their  vow  to  their  friends  and 
the  Great  Spirit. 

Noticing  the  trend  of  the  debate,  which  would  lead  his 
friend  into  trouble,  the  brother  of  Unami  arose,  and  wav- 
ing his  hand  said  :  — 

"  The  Arapahoe  is  a  warrior ;  his  feet  outstrip  the 
fleetest  horse  ;  his  arrow  is  as  the  lightning  of  the  Great 
Spirit ;  he  is  very  brave.  But  a  cloud  is  between  him 
and  the  sun  ;  he  cannot  see  his  enemy ;  there  is  yet  no 
scalp  in  his  lodge.  The  Great  Spirit  is  good  ;  he  sends  a 
victim,  a  man  whose  skin  is  white,  but  his  heart  is  very 
red ;  the  pale-face  is  a  brother,  and  his  long  knife  is 
turned  from  his  friends,  the  Arapahoes  ;  but  the  Great 
Spirit  is  all-powerful.  '  My  brother  "  —  pointing  to  Bap- 
tiste  —  "is  very  full  of  blood;  he  can  spare  a  little  to 
stain  the  blankets  of  the  young  men,  and  his  heart  shall 
still  be  warm  ;   I  have  spoken."' 

As  Baptiste  expressed  it :  "  Sacre  enfant  de  garce  ;  damn, 
de  ting  vas  agin  my  grain,  but  de  young  Arapahoe  he 
have  saved  my  life." 

Loud  acclamation  followed  the  speech  of  Unami's 
brother,  and  many  of  those  most  clamorous  against  the 
white  trapper,  being  actuated  by  the  earnest  desire  of 
returning  home  with  their  vow  accomplished,  when  they 
would  be  received  into  the  list  of  warriors,  and  have 
wives  and  other  honours,  were  unanimous  in  agreeing  to 
the  proposed  plan. 

A  flint  lancet  was  produced,  Baptiste's  arm  was  bared, 
and  the  blood  which  flowed  from  the  slight  wound  was 
carefully  distributed,  and  scattered  over  the  robes  of  the 
delighted  Arapahoes. 

The  scene  which  followed  was  quite  unexpected  to 
Baptiste,  who  was  only  glad  to  escape  the  death  to  which 
the   majority  had  doomed  him.     The   Indians,   perfectly 


276  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

satisfied  that  their  vow  of  shedding  an  enemy's  blood  had 
been  fulfilled,  were  all  gratitude ;  and  to  testify  that 
gratitude  in  a  substantial  manner  each  man  sought  his 
pack,  and  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  surprised  Baptiste  a  rich 
present.  One  gave  an  otter  skin,  another  that  of  a 
buffalo,  and  so  on  until  his  wealth  in  furs  outstripped  his 
most  sanguine  expectations  from  his  hunt.  The  brother  of 
Unami  stood  passively  looking  on  until  all  the  others 
had  successively  honoured  his  guest,  when  he  advanced 
toward  Baptiste,  leading  by  its  bridle  a  magnificent  horse, 
fully  caparisoned,  and  a  large  pack-mule.  To  refuse 
would  have  been  the  most  flagrant  breach  of  Indian  eti- 
quette, and  beside,  Brown  was  too  alive  to  the  advantage 
that  would  accrue  to  him  to  be  other  than  very  thankful. 

The  camp  was  then  broken  up,  and  the  kind  savages 
were  soon  lost  to  Baptiste's  sight  as  they  passed  down  the 
canon  ;  and  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  a  little  strength, 
for  he  was  weak  from  the  blood  he  had  shed  in  the  good 
cause,  mounted  his  horse,  after  loading  the  mule  with 
his  gifts,  and  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  his  lonely 
lodge,  where  he  remained  several  days.  He  then  sold 
his  furs  at  a  good  price,  as  it  was  so  early  in  the  season, 
bartered  for  a  large  quantity  of  knives,  beads,  powder, 
and  balls,  and  returned  to  the  Arapahoe  village,  where 
the  horse  was  considered  a  fair  exchange  for  the  pretty 
Unami ;  and  from  that  day,  for  over  thirty  years,  they 
lived  as  happy  as  any  couple  in  the  highest  civilization. 

The  fate  of  the  Pueblo,  where  the  trappers  and 
hunters  had  such  good  times  in  the  halcyon  days  of  the 
border,  like  that  which  befell  nearly  all  the  trading-posts 
and-  ranches  on  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  was  to  be  par- 
tially destroyed  by  the  savages.  During  the  early 
months  of  the  winter  of  185-4,  the  Utes  swept  down 
through  the  Arkansas  valley,  leaving  a  track  of  blood 
behind  them,  and  frightening  the  settlers  so  thoroughly 


TRAPPERS 


277 


that  many  left  the  country  never  to  return.  The  out- 
break was  as  sudden  as  it  was  devastating.  The  Pueblo 
was  captured  by  the  savages,  and  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  in  it  murdered,  with  the  exception  of  one  aged 
Mexican,  and  he  was  so  badly  wounded  that  he  died  in  a 
few  days. 

His  story  was  that  the  Utes  came  to  the  gates  of  the 
fort  on  Christmas  morning,  professing  the  greatest  friend- 
ship, and  asking  permission  to  be  allowed  to  come  inside 
and  hold  a  peace  conference.  All  who  were  in  the  fort  at 
the  time  were  Mexicans,  and  as  their  cupidity  led  them 
to  believe  that  they  could  do  some  advantageous  trading 
with  the  Indians,  they  foolishly  permitted  the  whole  band 
to  enter.  The  result  was  that  a  wholesale  massacre  fol- 
lowed. There  were  seventeen  persons  in  all  quartered 
there,  only  one  of  whom  escaped  death, — the  old  man 
referred  to,  —  and  a  woman  and  her.  two  children,  who 
were  carried  off  as  captives ;  but  even  she  was  killed 
before  the  savages  had  gone  a  mile  from  the  place.  What 
became  of  the  children  was  never  known ;  they  probably 
met  the  same  fate. 


JndidnPueb/o 


<£&< 


CHAPTER   XV 

UNCLE      JOHN     SMITH A     FAMOUS     TRAPPER,     GUIDE,     AND     IN- 
TERPRETER  HIS     MARRIAGE   WITH    A    CHEYENNE    SQUAW 

AN     AUTOCRAT     AMONG    THE     PEOPLE     OF     THE     PLAINS     AND 

MOUNTAINS THE     MEXICANS     HELD     HIM     IN    GREAT    DREAD 

HIS     WONDERFUL     RESEMBLANCE     TO     PRESIDENT     ANDREW 

JOHNSON INTERPRETER    AND     GUIDE     ON     GENERAL    SHERI- 

DAN'S     WINTER     EXPEDITION     AGAINST     THE     ALLIED      PLAINS 
TRIBES HIS    STORIES    AROUND    THE    CAMP-FIRE 


Pdppoo/e 


ANY  of  the  men  of  the 
border  were  blunt  in 
manners,  rude  in  speech, 
driven  to  the  absolute 
liberty  of  the  far  West 
with  better  natures  shat- 
tered and  hopes  blasted, 
to  seek  in  the  exciting  life 
of  t lie  plainsman  and  moun- 
taineer oblivion  of  some 
.  incidents  of  their  youth- 
ful days,  which  were 
better  forgotten.  Yet 
these  aliens  from  soci- 
ety, these  strangers  to  the 
refinements  of  civilization, 
who  would  tear  off  a  bloody  scalp  even  with  grim  smiles 
of  satisfaction,  were  fine  fellows,  full  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness,  and  would  share  their  last  slapjack  with  ;i 
hungry  stranger. 

278 


rPplfciSP 


UNCLE    JOHN    SMITH  279 

Uncle  John  Smith,  as  he  was  known  to  every  trapper, 
trader,  and  hunter  from  the  Yellowstone  to  the  Gila,  was 
one  of  the  most  famous  and  eccentric  men  of  the  early 
days.  In  1826,  as  a  boy,  he  ran  away  from  St.  Louis  with 
a  party  of  Santa  Fe  traders,  and  so  fascinated  was  he  with 
the  desultory  and  exciting  life,  that  he  chose  to  sit  cross- 
legged,  smoking  the  long  Indian  pipe,  in  the  comfortable 
buffalo-skin  teepee,  rather  than  cross  legs  on  the  broad 
table  of  his  master,  a  tailor  to  whom  he  had  been  ap- 
prenticed when  he  took  French  leave  from  St.  Louis. 

He  spent  his  first  winter  with  the  Blackfeet  Indians, 
but  came  very  near  losing  his  scalp  in  their  continual 
quarrels,  and  therefore  allied  himself  with  the  more  peace- 
able Sioux.  Once  while  on  the  trail  of  a  horse-stealing 
band  of  Arapahoes  near  the  head  waters  of  the  Arkansas, 
the  susceptible  young  hunter  fell  in  love  with  a  very 
pretty  Cheyenne  squaw,  married  her,  and  remained  true 
to  the  object  of  his  early  affection  during  all  his  long  and 
eventful  life,  extending  over  a  period  of  forty  years.  For 
many  decades  he  lived  with  his  dusky  wife  as  the  Indians 
did,  having  been  adopted  by  the  tribe.  He  owned  a  large 
number  of  horses,  which  constituted  the  wealth  of  the 
plains  Indians,  upon  the  sale  of  which  he  depended  almost 
entirely  for  his  subsistence.  He  became  very  powerful  in 
the  Cheyenne  nation  ;  was  regarded  as  a  chief,  taking  an 
active  part  in  the  councils,  and  exercising  much  authority. 
His  excellent  judgment  as  a  trader  with  the  various  bands 
of  Indians  while  he  was  employed  by  the  great  fur  com- 
panies made  his  services  invaluable  in  the  strange  business 
complications  of  the  remote  border.  Besides  understand- 
ing the  Cheyenne  language  as  well  as  his  native  tongue, 
he  also  spoke  three  other  Indian  dialects,  French,  and 
Spanish,  but  with  many  Western  expressions  that  some- 
times grated  harshly  upon  the  grammatical  ear. 

He  became  a  sort  of  autocrat  on  the  plains  and  in  the 


280  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

mountains ;  and  for  an  Indian  or  Mexican  to  attempt  to 
effect  a  trade  without  Uncle  John  Smith  having  something 
to  say  about  it,  and  its  conditions,  was  hardly  possible. 
The  New  Mexicans  often  came  in  small  parties  to  his 
Indian  village,  their  burros  packed  with  dry  pumpkin, 
corn,  etc.,  to  trade  for  buffalo-robes,  bearskins,  meat,  and 
ponies  ;  and  Smith,  who  knew  his  power,  exacted  tribute, 
which  was  always  paid.  At  one  time,  however,  when 
for  some  reason  a  party  of  strange  Mexicans  refused, 
Uncle  John  harangued  the  people  of  the  village,  and 
called  the  young  warriors  together,  who  emptied  every 
sack  of  goods  belonging  to  the  cowering  Mexicans  on  the 
ground,  Smith  ordering  the  women  and  children  to  help 
themselves,  an  order  which  was  obeyed  with  alacrity.  The 
frightened  Mexicans  left  hurriedly  for  El  Valle  de  Taos, 
whence  they  had  come,  crossing  themselves  and  uttering 
thanks  to  Heaven  for  having  retained  their  scalps.  This 
and  other  similar  cases  so  intimidated  the  poor  Greasers, 
and  impressed  them  so  deeply  with  a  sense  of  Smith's 
power,  that,  ever  after,  his  permission  to  trade  was  craved 
by  a  special  deputation  of  the  parties,  accompanied  by 
peace-offerings  of  corn,  pumpkin,  and  pinole.  At  one  time, 
when  Smith  was  journeying  by  himself  a  day's  ride  from  the 
Cheyenne  village,  he  was  met  by  a  party  of  forty  or  more 
corn  traders,  who,  instead  of  putting  such  a  bane  to  their 
prospects  speedily  out  of  the  way,  gravely  asked  him  if 
they  could  proceed,  and  offered  him  every  third  robe  they 
had  to  accompany  them,  which  he  did.  Indeed,  he  be- 
came so  regardless  of  justice,  in  his  condescension  to  the 
natives  of  New  Mexico,  that  the  governor  of  that  prov- 
ince offered  a  reward  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  him 
alive  or  dead,  but  fear  of  the  Cheyennes  was  so  prevalent 
that  his  capture  was  never  even  attempted. 

During  Sheridan's  memorable  winter  campaign  against 
the  allied  tribes  in  1868-69,  Che  old  man,  for  he  was  then 


UNCLE  JOHN   SMITH  281 

about  sixty,  was  my  guide  and  interpreter.  He  shared 
my  tent  and  mess,  a  most  welcome  addition  to  the  few 
who  sat  at  my  table,  and  beguiled  many  a  weary  hour  at 
night,  after  our  tedious  marches  through  the  apparently 
interminable  sand  dunes  and  barren  stretches  of  our  mo- 
notonous route,  with  his  tales  of  that  period,  more  than 
half  a  century  ago,  when  our  mid-continent  region  was  as 
little  known  as  the  topography  of  the  planet  Mars. 

At  the  close  of  December/  1868,  a  few  weeks  after 
the  battle  of  the  Washita,  I  was  camping  with  my  com- 
mand on  the  bank  of  that  historic  stream  in  the  Indian 
Territory,  waiting  with  an  immense  wagon-train  of  sup- 
plies for  the  arrival  of  General  Custer's  command,  the 
famous  Seventh  Cavalry,  and  also  the  Nineteenth  Kansas, 
which  were  supposed  to  be  lost,  or  wandering  aimlessly 
somewhere  in  the  region  south  of  us. 

I  had  been  ordered  to  that  point  by  General  Sheridan, 
with  instructions  to  keep  fires  constantly  burning  on  three 
or  four  of  the  highest  peaks  in  the  vicinity  of  our  camp, 
until  the  lost  troops  should  be  guided  to  the  spot  by  our 
signals.  These  signals  were  veritable  pillars  of  fire  by 
night  and  pillars  of  cloud  by  day ;  for  there  was  an 
abundance  of  wood  and'  hundreds  of  men  ready  to  feed 
the  hungry  flames. 

It  was  more  than  two  weeks  before  General  Custer  and 
his  famished  troopers  began  to  straggle  in.  During  that 
period  of  anxious  waiting  we  lived  almost  exclusively  on 
wild  turkey,  and  longed  for  nature's  meat,  —  the  buffalo  ; 
but  there  were  none  of  the  shaggy  beasts  at  that  time  in 
the  vicinity,  so  we  had  to  content  ourselves  with  the  birds, 
of  which  we  became  heartily  tired. 

For  several  days  after  our  arrival  on  the  creek,  the  men 
had  been  urging  Uncle  John  to  tell  them  another  story  of 
his  early  adventures;  but  the  old  trapper  was  in  one  of 
his  silent  moods  —  he  frequently  had  them  —  and  could 


282  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

not  be  persuaded  to  emerge  from  his  shell  of  reticence 
despite  their  most  earnest  entreaties.  I  knew  it  would 
be  of  no  use  for  me  to  press  him.  I  could,  of  course,  order 
him  to  any  duty,  and  he  would  promptly  obey  ;  but  his 
tongue,  like  the  hand  of  Douglas,  was  his  own.  I  knew, 
also,  that  when  he  got  ready,  which  would  be  when 
some  incident  of  camp-life  inspired  him,  he  would  be  as 
garrulous  as  ever. 

One  evening  just  before  supper,  a  party  of  enlisted 
men  who  had  been  up  the  creek  to  catch  fish,  but  had 
failed  to  take  anything  owing  to  the  frozen  condition 
of  the  stream,  returned  with  the  skeleton  of  a  Cheyenne 
Indian  which  they  had  picked  up  on  the  battle-ground 
of  a  month  previously  —  one  of  Custer's  victims  in  his 
engagement  with  Black  Kettle.  This  was  the  incentive 
Uncle  John  required.  As  he  gazed  on  the  bleached  bones 
of  the  warrior,  he  said :  "  Boys,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a 
good  long  story  to-night.  Them  Ingin's  bones  has  put 
me  in  mind  of  it.  After  we've  eat,  if  you  fellows  wants 
to  hear  it,  come  down  to  headquarters  tent,  and  I'll  give 
it  to  you." 

Of  course  word  was  rapidly  passed  from  one  to  another, 
as  the  whole  camp  was  eager  to  hear  the  old  trapper 
again.  In  a  short  time,  every  man  not  on  guard  or 
detailed  to  keep  up  the  signals  on  the  hills  gathered 
around  the  dying  embers  of  the  cook's  fire  in  front  of 
my  tent  ;  the  enlisted  men  and  teamsters  in  groups  by 
themselves,  the  officers  a  little  closer  in  a  circle,  in  the 
centre  of  which  Uncle  John  sat. 

The  night  was  cold,  the  sky  covered  with  great  fleecy 
patches,  through  which  the  full  moon,  just  fairly  risen, 
appeared  to  be  racing,  under  the  effect  of  that  optical  illu- 
sion caused  by  the  rapidly  moving  clouds.  The  coyotes  had 
commenced  their  nocturnal  concert  in  the  timbered  recesses 
of  the  creek  not  far  away,  and  on  the  battle-field  a  short 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  283 

distance  beyond,  as  they  battened  and  fought  over  the 
dead  warriors  and  the  carcasses  of  twelve  hundred  ponies 
killed  in  that  terrible  slaughter  by  the  intrepid  Custer 
and  his  troopers.  The  signals  on  the  hills  leaped  into  the 
crisp  air  like  the  tongues  of  dragons  in  the  myths  of  the 
ancients  ;  in  fact,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  place,  as  we  sat 
around  the  blazing  logs  of  our  camp-fire,  was  weird  and 
uncanny. 

Every  one  was  eager  for  the  veteran  guide  to  begin  his 
tale  ;  but  as  I  knew  he  could  not  proceed  without  smok- 
ing, I  passed  him  my  pouch  of  Lone  Jack  —  the  brand  far 
excellence  in  the  army  at  that  time. 

Uncle  John  loaded  his  corn-cob,  picked  up  a  live  coal, 
and,  pressing  it  down  on  the  tobacco  with  his  thumb, 
commenced  to  puff  vigorously.  As  soon  as  his  withered 
old  face  was  half  hidden  in  a  cloud  of  smoke,  he  opened 
his  story  in  his  stereotyped  way.  I  relate  it  just  as  he 
told  it,  but  divested  of  much  of  its  dialect,  so  difficult  to 
write  :  — 

"  Well,  boys,  it's  a  good  many  years  ago,  in  June,  1845, 
if  I  don't  disremember.  I  was  about  forty-three,  and  had 
been  in  the  mountains  and  on  the  plains  more  than  nine- 
teen seasons.  You  see,  I  went  out  there  in  1826.  There 
warn't  no  roads,  nuthin'  but  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  in  them 
days,  and  Ingins  and  varmints. 

"  There  was  four  of  us.  Me,  Bill  Comstock,  Dick 
Curtis,  and  Al  Thorpe.  Dick  was  took  in  by  the  Utes 
two  years  afterwards  at  the  foot  of  the  Spanish  Peaks, 
and  Al  was  killed  by  the  Apaches  at  Pawnee  Rock, 
in  1847. 

"  We'd  been  trapping  up  on  Medicine  Bow  for  more 
than  three  years  together,  and  had  a  pile  of  beaver,  otter, 
mink,  and  other  varmint's  skins  cached  in  the  hills,  which 
we  know'd  was  worth  a  heap  of  money  ;  so  we  concluded 
to  take  them  to  the  river  that  summer.      We  started  from 


284  THE   OLD    SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

our  trapping  camp  in  April,  and  'long  'bout  the  middle 
of  June  reached  the  Arkansas,  near  what  is  know'd  as 
Point  o'  Rocks.  You  all  know  where  them  is  on  the 
Trail  west  of  Fort  Dodge,  and  how  them  rocks  rises  up 
out  of  the  prairie  sudden-like.  We  was  a  travelling  'long 
mighty  easy,  for  we  was  all  afoot,  and  had  hoofed  it 
the  whole  distance,  mjore  than  six  hundred  miles,  driving 
five  good  mules  ahead  of  us.  Our  furs  was  packed  on 
four  of  them,  and  the  other  carried  our  blankets,  extry 
ammunition,  frying-pan,  coffee-pot,  and  what  little  grub 
we  had,  for  we  was  obliged  to  depend  upon  buffalo,  ante- 
lope, and  jack-rabbits ;  but,  boys,  I  tell  you  there  was 
millions  of  'em  in  them  days. 

"  We  had  just  got  into  camp  at  Point  o'  Rocks.  It 
was  'bout  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  none  of  us 
carried  watches,  we  always  reckoned  time  by  the  sun, 
and  could  generally  guess  mighty  close,  too.  It  was 
powerful  hot,  I  remember.  We'd  hobbled  our  mules 
close  to  the  ledge,  where  the  grass  was  good,  so  they 
couldn't  be  stampeded,  as  we  know'd  we  was  in  the 
Pawnee  country,  and  they  was  the  most  ornery  Ingins 
on  the  plains.  We  know'd  nothing  that  was  white  ever 
came  by  that  part  of  the  Trail  without  having  a  scrim- 
mage with  the  red  devils. 

"  Well,  Ave  hadn't  more  than  took  our  dinner,  when 
them  mules  give  a  terrible  snort,  and  tried  to  break  and 
run,  getting,  awful  oneasy  all  to  once.  Them  critters 
can  tell  when  Ingins  is  around.  They's  better  than  a 
dozen  dogs.  I  don't  know  how  they  can  tell,  but  they 
just  naturally  do. 

"  In  less  than  five  minutes  after  them  mules  began  to 
worry,  stopped  eating,  and  had  their  ears  pricked  up 
a  trying  to  look  over  the  ledge  towards  the  river,  we 
heard  a  sharp  firing  down  on  the  Trail,  which  didn't 
appear  to  be  more  than  a  hundred  yards  off.     You  ought 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  285 

to  seen  us  grab  our  rifles  sudden,  and  run  out  from  be- 
hind them  rocks,  where  we  was  a  camping,  so  comfortable- 
like, and  just  going  to  light  our  pipes  for  a  good  smoke. 
It  didn't  take  us  no  time  to  get  down  on  to  the  Trail, 
where  we  seen  a  Mexican  bull  train,  that  we  know'd 
must  have  come  from  Santa  Fe,  and  which  had  stopped 
and  was  trying  to  corral.  More,  than  sixty  painted 
Pawnees  was  a  circling  around  the  outfit,  howling  as 
only  them  can  howl,  and  pouring  a  shower  of  arrows  into 
the  oxen.  Some  was  shaking  their  buffalo-robes,  trying 
to  stampede  the  critters,  so  they  could  kill  the  men 
easier. 

"  We  lit  out  mighty  lively,  soon  as  we  seen  what  was 
going  on,  and  reached  the  head  of  the  train  just  as  the 
last  wagon,  that  was  furtherest  down  the  Trail,  nigh 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  was  cut  out  by  part  of  the  band. 
Then  we  seen  a  man,  a  woman,  and  a  little  boy  jump  out, 
and  run  to  get  shet  of  the  Ingins  what  had  cut  out  the 
wagon  from  the  rest  of  the  train.  One  of  the  red  devils 
killed  the  man  and  scalped  him,  while  the  other  pulled 
the  woman  up  in  front  of  him,  and  rid  off  into  the  sand 
hills,  and  out  of  sight  in  a  minute.  Then  the  one  what 
had  killed  her  husband  started  for  the  boy,  who  was 
a  running  for  the  train  as  fast  as  his  little  legs  could  go. 
But  we  was  nigh  enough  then;  and  just  as  the  Ingin  was 
reaching  down  from  his  pony  for  the  kid,  Al  Thorpe  —  lie 
was  a  powerful  fine  shot  —  draw'd  up  his  gun  and  took 
the  red  cuss  off  his  critter  without  the  paint-bedaubed 
devil  know"n'  what  struck  him. 

"  The  boy,  seeing  us,  broke  and  run  for  where  we  was, 
and  I  reckon  the  rest  of  the  Ingins  seen  us  then  for  the 
first  time,  too.  We  was  up  with  the  train  now,  which 
was  kind  o'  halfway  corralled,  and  Dick  Curtis  picked  up 
the  child, — he  wa'rn't  more  than  seven  years  old,  —  and 
throw'd  him  gently  into  one  of  the  wagons,  where  he'd 


286  THE   OLD   SANTA    FE   TRAIL 

be  out  of  the  way  ;  for  we  know'd  there  was  going  to  be 
considerable  more  fighting  before  night.  We  know'd, 
too,  we  Americans  would  have  to  do  the  heft  of  it,  as 
them  Mexican  bull-whackers  warn't  much  account,  nohow, 
except  to  cavort  around  and  swear  in  Spanish,  which 
they  hadn't  done  nothing  else  since  we'd  come  up  to  the 
train  ;  besides,  their  miserable  guns  warn't  much  better 
than  so  many  bows  and  arrows. 

"  We  Americans  talked  together  for  a  few  moments  as 
to  what  was  best  to  be  did,  while  the  Ingins  all  this  time 
was  keeping  up  a  lively  fire  for  them.  We  made  as 
strong  a  corral  of  the  wagons  as  we  could,  driving  out 
what  oxen  the  Mexicans  had  put  in  the  one  they  had 
made,  but  you  can't  do  much  with  only  nine  wagons, 
nohow.  Fortunately,  while  we  was  fixing  things,  the 
red  cusses  suddenly  retreated  out  of  the  range  of  our 
rifles,  and  we  first  thought  they  had  cleared  out  for  good. 
We  soon  discovered,  however,  they  were  only  holding  a 
pow-wow ;  for  in  a  few  minutes  back  they  come,  mounted 
on  their  ponies,  with  all  their  fixin's  and  fresh  war- 
paint on. 

"  Then  they  commenced  to  circle  around  us  again,  com- 
ing a  little  nearer  —  Ingin  fashion — every  time  they  rid 
off  and  back.  It  wasn't  long  before  they  got  in  easy 
range,  when  they  slung  themselves  on  the  off-side  of  their 
ponies  and  let  fly  their  arrows  and  balls  from  under  their 
critters'  necks.  Their  guns  warn't  much  'count,  being 
only  old  English  muskets  what  had  come  from  the  Hudson 
Bay  Fur  Company,  so  they  didn't  do  no  harm  that  round, 
except  to  scare  the  Mexicans,  which  commenced  to  cross 
themselves  and  pray  and  swear. 

"  We  four  Americans  warn't  idle  when  them  Ingins 
come  a  charging  up  ;  we  kept  our  eye  skinned,  and 
whenever  we  could  draw  a  bead,  one  of  them  tumbled  off 
his  pony,  you  bet  !     When    they'd  come   back  for  their 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  287 

dead,  —  we'd  already  killed  three  of  them,  —  we  had  a  big 
advantage,  wasted  no  shots,  and  dropped  four  of  them  ; 
one  apiece,  and  you  never  heard  Ingins  howl  so.  It  was 
getting  kind  o'  dark  by  this  time,  and  the  varmints  didn't 
seem  anxious  to  fight  any  more,  but  went  down  to  the 
river  and  scooted  off  into  the  sand  hills  on  the  other  side. 
We  waited  more  than  half  an  hour  for  them,  but  as  they 
didn't  come  back,  concluded  we'd  better  light  out  too. 
We  told  the  Mexicans  to  yoke  up,  and  as  good  luck  would 
have  it  they  found  all  the  cattle  close  by,  excepting  them 
what  pulled  the  wagon  what  the  Ingins  had  cut  out,  and 
as  it  was  wa}r  down  the  Trail,  we  had  to  abandon  it  ;  for 
it  was  too  dark  to  hunt  it  up,  as  we  had  no  time  to  fool 
away. 

"We  put  all  our  outfit  into  the  train  ;  it  wasn't  loaded, 
but  going  empty  to  the  Missouri,  to  fetch  back  a  saw- 
mill for  New  Mexico.  Then  we  made  a  soft  bed  in  the 
middle  wagon  out  of  blankets  for  the  kid,  and  rolled  out 
'bout  ten  o'clock,  meaning  to  put  as  many  miles  between 
us  and  them  Ingins  as  the  oxen  could  stand.  We  four 
hoofed  it  along  for  a  while,  then  rid  a  piece,  catching 
a  nap  now  and  then  as  best  we  could,  for  we  was  mon- 
strous tired.  By  daylight  we'd  made  fourteen  miles,  and 
was  obliged  to  stop  to  let  the  cattle  graze.  We  boiled 
our  coffee,  fried  some  meat,  and  by  that  time  the  little 
boy  waked.  He'd  slept  like  a  top  all  night  and  hadn't 
no  supper  either  ;  so  when  I  went  to  the  wagon  where  he 
was  to  fetch  him  out,  he  just  put  them  baby  arms  of  his'n 
around  my  neck,  and  says,  'Where's  mamma?  ' 

"I  tell  you,  boys,  that  nigh  played  me  out.  He  had 
no  idee,  'cause  he  was  too  young  to  realize  what  had  hap- 
pened ;  we  know'd  his  pa  was  killed,  but  where  his  ma 
was,  God  only  know'd  ! " 

Here  the  old  man  stopped  short  in  his  narrative,  made 
two  or  three  efforts  as  if  to  swallow  something  that  would 


288  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

not  go  down,  while  his  eyes  had  a  far-away  look.  Pres- 
ently he  picked  up  a  fresh  coal  from  the  fire,  placed  it  on 
his  pipe,  which  had  gone  out,  then  puffing  vigorously  for 
a  few  seconds,  until  his  head  was  again  enveloped  in 
smoke,  he  continued  :  — 

"  After  I'd  washed  the  little  fellow's  face  and  hands,  I 
gave  him  a  tin  cup  of  coffee  and  some  meat.  You'd  ought 
to  seen  him  eat ;  he  was  hungrier  than  a  coyote.  Then 
while  the  others  was  a  watering  and  picketing  the  mules, 
I  sot  down  on  the  grass  and  took  the  kid  into  my  lap  to 
have  a  good  look  at  him  ;  for  until  now  none  of  us  had  had 
a  chance. 

"He  was  the  purtiest  child  I'd  ever  seen  ;  great  black 
eyes,  and  eyelashes  that  laid  right  on  to  his  cheeks  ;  his 
hair,  too,  was  black,  and  as  curly  as  a  young  big-horn. 
I  asked  him  what  his  name  was,  and  he  says,  '  Paul. ' 
'  Hain't  you  got  no  other  name  ? '  says  I  to  him  again,  and 
he  answered,  '  Yes,  sir,'  for  he  was  awful  polite  ;  I  noticed 
that.  '  Paul  Dale,'  says  he  prompt-like,  and  them  big 
eyes  of  his'n  looked  up  into  mine,  as  he  says  '  What  be 
yourn  ? '  I  told  him  he  must  call  me  '  Uncle  John,' 
and  then  he  says  again,  as  he  put  his  arms  around  my 
neck,  his  little  lips  all  a  quivering,  and  looking  so  sorrow- 
ful, '  Uncle  John,  where's  mamma  ;   why  don't  she  come  ?  ' 

"  Boys,  I  don't  really  know  what  I  did  say.  A  kind  o' 
mist  came  before  my  eyes,  and  for  a  minute  or  two  I 
didn't  know  nothing.  I  come  to  in  a  little  while,  and 
seeing  Thorpe  bringing  up  the  mules  from  the  river, 
where  he'd  been  watering  them,  I  says  to  Paul,  to  get  his 
mind  on  to  something  else  besides  his  mother,  '  Don't  you 
want  to  ride  one  of  them  mules  when  we  pull  out  again  ? ' 
The  little  fellow  jumped  off  my  lap,  clapped  his  hands, 
forgetting  his  trouble  all  at  once,  child-like,  and  replied, 
'  I  do,  Uncle  John,  can  I  ?  ' 

"  After  we'd  camped  there  'bout  three  hours,  the  cattle 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  289 

full  of  grass  and  all  laying  down  chewing  their  cud,  we 
concluded  to  move  on  and  make  a  few  miles  before  it 
grow'd  too  hot,  and  to  get  further  from  the  Ingins,  which 
we  expected  would  tackle  us  again,  as  soon  as  they  could 
get  back  from  their  camp,  where  we  felt  sure  they  had 
gone  for  reinforcements.  ' 

"  While  the  Mexicans  was  yoking  up,  me  and  Thorpe 
rigged  an  easy  saddle  on  one  of  the  mules,  out  of  blankets, 
for  the  kid  to  ride  on,  and  when  Ave  was  all  ready,  to  pull 
out,  I  histed  him  on,  and  you  never  see  a  youngster  so 
tickled. 

"  We  had  to  travel  mighty  slow  ;  couldn't  make  more 
than  eighteen  miles  a  day  with  oxen,  and  that  was  in  two 
drives,  one  early  in  the  morning,  and  one  in  the  evening 
when  it  was  cool,  a  laying  by  and  grazing  when  it  was 
hot.  We  Americans  walked  along  the  Trail,  and  mighty 
slow  walking  it  was  ;  'bout  two  and  a  half  miles  an  hour. 
I  kept  close  to  Paul,  for  I  began  to  set  a  good  deal  of 
store  by  him  ;  lie  seemed  to  cotton  to  me  more  than  he 
did  to  the  rest,  wanting  to  stick  near  me  most  of  the  time 
as  he  rid  on  the  mule.  I  wanted  to  find  out  something 
'bout  his  folks,  where  they'd  come  from  ;  so  that  when 
we  got  to  Independence,  perhaps  I  could  turn  him  over 
to  them  as  ought  to  have  him  ;  though  in  my  own  mind 
I  was  just  ornery  enough  to  wish  I  might  never  find  them, 
and  he'd  be  obliged  to  stay  with  me.  The  boy  was  too 
young  to  tell  what  I  wanted  to  find  out  ;  all  I  could  get 
out  of  him  was  they'd  been  living  in  Santa  Fe  since  he 
was  a  baby,  and  that  his  papa  was  a  preacher.  I  'spect 
one  of  them  missionaries  'mong  the  heathenish  Greasers. 
He  said  they  was  going  back  to  his  grandma's  in  the 
States,  but  he  could  not  tell  where.  I  couldn't  get  noth- 
ing out  of  them  Mexican  bull-whackers  neither,  —  what 
they  know'd  wasn't  half  as  much  as  the  kid,  —  and  I  had 
to  give  it  up. 


290  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

"  Well,  we  kept  moving  along  without  having  any  more 
trouble  for  a  week  ;  them  Ingins  never  following  us  as 
we  'lowed  they  would.  1  really  enjoyed  the  trip  such  as 
I  never  had  before.  Paul  he  was  so  'fectionate  and  smart, 
that  he  'peared  to  fill  a  spot  in  my  heart  what  had  always 
been  hollow  until  then.  When  he'd  got  tired  of  riding 
the  mule  or  in  one  of  the  wagons,  he'd  come  and  walk 
along  the  Trail  with  me,  a  picking  flowers,  chasing  the 
prairie-owls  and  such,  until  his  little  legs  'bout  played 
out,  when  I'd  hist  him  on  his  mule  again.  When  we'd 
go  into  camp,  Paul,  he'd  run  and  pick  up  buffalo-chips 
for  the  fire,  and  wanted  to  help  all  he  could.  Then  when 
it  came  time  to  go  to  sleep,  the  boy  would  always  get 
under  my  blankets  and  cuddle  up  close  to  me.  He'd  be 
sure  to  say  his  prayers  first,  though ;  but  it  seemed  so 
strange  to  me  who  hadn't  heard  a  prayer  for  thirty  years. 
I  never  tried  to  stop  him,  you  may  be  certain  of  that. 
He'd  ask  God  to  bless  his  pa  and  ma,  and  wind  up  with 
'  Bless  Uncle  John  too.'  Then  I  couldn't  help  hugging 
him  right  up  tighter ;  for  it  carried  me  back  to  Old  Mis- 
souri, to  the  log-cabin  in  the  woods  where  I  was  born, 
and  used  to  say  '  Now  I  lay  me,'  and  '  Our  Father '  at 
my  ma's  knee,  when  I  was  a  kid  like  him.  I  tell  you, 
boys,  there  ain't  nothing  that  will  take  the  conceit  out  of 
a  man  here  on  the  plains,  like  the  company  of  a  kid  what 
has  been  brought  up  right. 

"  I  reckon  we'd  been  travelling  about  ten  days  since  we 
left  Point  o'  Rocks,  and  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  Big 
Bend  of  the  Arkansas,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Walnut, 
where  Fort  Zarah  is  now.  We  had  went  into  camp  at 
sundown,  close  to  a  big  spring  that's  there  yet.  We 
drawed  up  the  wagons  into  a  corral  on  the  edge  of  the 
river  where  there  wasn't  no  grass  for  quite  a  long  stretch  ; 
we  done  this  to  kind  o'  fortify  ourselves,  for  we  expected 
to  have  trouble  with  the  Ingins  there,  if  anywhere,  as  we 


0NCLE   JOHN   SMITH  291 

warn't  but  seventeen  miles  from  Pawnee  Rock,  the  worst 
place  on  the  whole  Trail  for  them  ;  so  we  picked  out  that 
bare  spot  where  they  couldn't  set  fire  to  the  prairie.  It 
was  long  after  dark  when  we  eat  our  supper  ;  then  we 
smoked  our  pipes,  waiting  for  the  oxen  to  fill  themselves, 
which  had  been  driven  about  a  mile  off  where  there  was 
good  grass.  The  Mexicans  was  herding  them,  and  when 
they'd  eat  all  they  could  hold,  and  was  commencing  to 
lay  down,  they  was  driven  into  the  corral.  Then  all  of 
us,  except  Comstock  and  Curtis,  turned  in ;  they  was  to 
stand  guard  until  'bout  one  o'clock,  when  me  and  Thorpe 
was  to  change  places  with  them  and  stay  up  until  morn- 
ing ;  for,  you  see,  we  was  afraid  to  trust  them  Mexi- 
cans. 

"It  seemed  like  we  hadn't  been  asleep  more  than  an  hour 
when  me  and  Thorpe  was  called  to  take  our  turn  on 
guard.  We  got  out  of  our  blankets,  I  putting  Paul  into 
one  of  the  wagons,  then  me  and  Thorpe  lighted  our  pipes 
and  walked  around,  keeping  our  eyes  and  ears  open, 
watching  the  heavy  fringe  of  timber  on  the  creek  mighty 
close,  I  tell  you.  Just  as  daylight  was  coming,  we  noticed 
that  our  mules,  what  was  tied  to  a  wagon  in  the  corral, 
was  getting  uneasy,  a  pawing  and  snorting,  with  their 
long  ears  cocked  up  and  looking  toward  the  Walnut. 
Before  I  could  finish  saying  to  Thorpe,  '  Them  mules  smells 
Ingins,'  half  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  darned  cusses  dashed 
out  of  the  timber,  yelling  and  shaking  their  robes,  which, 
of  course,  waked  up  the  whole  camp.  Me  and  Thorpe 
sent  a  couple  of  shots  after  them,  that  scattered  the  devils 
for  a  minute  ;  but  we  hadn't  hit  nary  one,  because  it  was 
too  dark  yet  to  draw  a  bead  on  them.  We  was  certain  there 
was  a  good  many  more  of  them  behind  the  first  that  had 
charged  us  ;  so  we  got  all  the  men  on  the  side  of  the  cor- 
ral next  to  the  Trail.  The  Ingins  we  know'd  couldn't 
get  behind  us,  on  account  of  the  river,  and  we  was  bound 


292  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

to  make  them  fight  where  we  wanted  them  to,  if  they 
meant  to  fight  at  all. 

"  In  less  than  a  minute,  quicker  than  I  can  tell  you, 
sure  enough,  out  they  came  again,  only  there  was  'bout 
eighty  of  them  this  time.  They  made  a  dash  at  once,  and 
their  arrows  fell  like  a  shower  of  hail  on  the  ground  and 
against  the  wagon-sheets  as  the  cusses  swept  by  on  their 
ponies.  There  wasn't  anybody  hurt,  and  our  turn  soon 
came.  Just  as  they  circled  back,  we  poured  it  into  them, 
killing  six  and  wounding  two.  You  see  them  Mexican 
guns  had  did  some  work  that  we  didn't  expect,  and  then 
we  Americans  felt  better.  Well,  bo}rs,  them  varmints 
made  four  charges  like  that  on  to  us  before  we  could  get 
shet  of  them ;  but  we  killed  as  many  as  sixteen  or  eigh- 
teen, and  they  got  mighty  sick  of  it  and  quit ;  they  had 
only  knocked  over  one  Mexican,  and  put  an  arrow  into 
Thorpe's  arm. 

"  I  was  amused  at  little  Paul  all  the  time  the  scrimmage 
was  going  on.  He  stood  up  in  the  wagon  where  I'd  put 
him,  a  looking  out  of  the  hole  behind  where  the  sheet 
was  drawed  together,  and  every  time  an  Ingin  was  tum- 
bled off  his  pony,  he  would  clap  his  hands  and  yell,  'There 
goes  another  one,  Uncle  John  ! ' 

"  After  their  last  charge,  they  rode  off  out  of  range, 
where  they  stood  in  little  bunches  talking  to  each  other, 
holding  some  sort  of  a  pow-wow.  It  riled  us  to  see  the 
darned  cusses  keep  so  far  away  from  our  rifles,  because  we 
wanted  to  lay  a  few  more  of  them  out,  but  was  obliged  to 
keep  still  and  watch  out  for  some  new  deviltry.  We 
waited  there  until  it  was  plumb  night,  not  daring  to  move 
out  yet ;  but  we  managed  to  boil  our  coffee  and  fry  slap- 
jacks and  meat. 

"  The  oxen  kept  up  a  bellowing  and  pawing  around  the 
corral,  for  they  was  desperate  hungry  and  thirsty,  hadn't 
had  nothing  since  the  night  before  ;  yet  we  couldn't  help 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  293 

them  any,  as  we  didn't  know  whether  we  was  shet  of  the 
Ingins  or  not.  We  staid,  patient-like,  for  two  or  three 
hours  more  after  dark  to  see  what  the  Ingins  was  going 
to  do,  as  while  we  sot  round  our  little  fire  of  buffalo-chips, 
smoking  our  pipes,  we  could  still  hear  the  red  devils  a 
howling  and  chanting,  while  they  picked  up  their  dead 
laving  along  the  river-bottom. 

"As  soon  as  morning  broke,  —  we'd  ketched  a  nap  now 
and  then  during  the  night,  —  we  got  ready  for  another 
charge  of  the  Ingins,  their  favourite  time  being  just  'bout 
daylight ;  but  there  warn't  hide  or  hair  of  an  Ingin  in 
sight.  They'd  sneaked  off  in  the  darkness  long  before 
the  first  streak  of  dawn ;  had  enough  of  fighting,  I  ex- 
pect. As  soon  as  we  discovered  they'd  all  cleared  out,  we 
told  the  drivers  to  hitch  up,  and  while  they  was  yoking 
and  watering,  me  'n'  Curtis  and  Comstock  buried  the 
dead  Mexican  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  as  we  didn't 
want  to  leave  his  bones  to  be  picked  by  the  coyotes,  which 
was  already  setting  on  the  sand  hills  watching  and  waiting 
for  us  to  break  camp.  By  the  time  we'd  finished  our  job, 
and  piled  some  rocks  on  his  grave,  so  as  the  varmints 
couldn't  dig  him  up,  the  train  was  strung  out  on  the  Trail, 
and  then  we  rolled  out  mighty  lively  for  oxen ;  for  the 
critters  was  hungrj7,  and  we  had  to  travel  three  or  four 
miles  the  other  side  of  the  Walnut,  where  the  grass  was 
green,  before  they  could  feed.  The  oxen  seen  it  on  the 
hills  and  they  lit  out  almost  at  a  trot.  It  was  'bout  sun- 
up when  we  got  there,  when  we  turned  the  animals  loose, 
corralled,  and  had  breakfast. 

"After  we'd  had  our  smoke,  all  we  had  to  do  was  to 
put  in  the  time  until  five  o'clock ;  for  we  couldn't  move 
before  then,  as  it  would  be  too  hot  by  the  time  the  oxen 
got  filled.  Paul  and  me  went  down  to  the  creek  fishing  ; 
there  was  tremendous  cat  in  the  Walnut  them  days,  and 
by  noon  we'd  ketched  five  big  beauties,  which  we  took  to 


294:  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

camp  and  cooked  for  dinner.  After  I'd  had  my  smoke, 
Paul  and  me  went  back  to  the  creek,  where  we  stretched 
ourselves  under  a  good-sized  box-elder  tree  —  there  wasn't 
no  shade  nowhere  else  —  and  took  a  sleep,  while  Comstock 
and  Curtis  went  jack-rabbit  hunting  across  the  river,  as 
we  was  getting  scarce  of  meat. 

"  Thorpe,  who  was  hit  in  the  arm  with  an  arrow, 
couldn't  do  much  but  nuss  his  wound ;  so  him  and  the 
Mexicans  stood  guard,  a  looking  out  for  Ingins,  as  we 
didn't  know  but  what  the  cusses  might  come-  back  and 
make  another  raid  on  us,  though  we  really  didn't  expect 
they  would  have  the  gall  to  bother  us  any  more  —  least  not 
the  same  outfit  what  had  fought  us  the  day  before.  That 
evening,  'bout  six  o'clock,  we  rolled  out  again  and  went 
into  camp  late,  having  made  twelve  miles,  and  didn't  see 
a  sign  of  Ingins. 

"  In  ten  days  more  we  got  to  Independence  without  hav- 
ing no  more  trouble  of  no  kind,  and  was  surprised  at  our 
luck.  At  Independence  we  Americans  left  the  train,  sold 
our  furs,  got  a  big  price,  too,  —  each  of  us  had  a  shot-bag 
full  of  gold  and  silver,  more  money  than  we  know'd  what 
to  do  with.  Me,  Curtis,  and  Thorpe  concluded  we'd  buy 
a  new  outfit,  consisting  of  another  six-mule  wagon,  and 
harness,  so  we'd  have  a  full  team,  meaning  to  go  back  to 
the  mountains  with  the  first  big  caravan  what  left. 

"  All  the  folks  in  the  settlement  what  seen  Paul  took  a 
great  fancy  to  him.  Some  wanted  to  adopt  him,  and  some 
said  I'd  ought  to  take  him  to  St.  Louis  and  place  him  in  an 
orphan  asylum  ;  but  I  'lowed  if  there  was  going  to  be  any 
adopting  done,  I'd  do  it  myself,  'cause  the  kid  seemed  now 
just  as  if  he  was  my  own  ;  besides  the  little  fellow  I  know'd 
loved  me  and  didn't  want  me  to  leave  him.  I  had  kin- 
folks  in  Independence,  an  old  aunt,  and  me  and  Paul  staid 
there.  She  had  a  young  gal  with  her,  and  she  learned 
Paul  out  of  books  ;  so  he  picked  up  considei'able,  as  we 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  295 

had  to  wait  more  than  two  months  before  Colonel  St. 
Vrain's  caravan  was  ready  to  start  for  New  Mexico. 

"  I  bought  Paul  a  coal-black  pony,  and  had  a  suit  of 
fine  buckskin  made  for  him  out  of  the  pelt  of  a  black-tail 
deer  I'd  shot  the  winter  before  on  Powder  River.  The 
seams  of  his  trousers  was  heavily  fringed,  and  with  his 
white  sombrero,  a  riding  around  town  on  his  pony,  he 
looked  like  one  of  them  Spanish  Dons  what  the  papers 
nowadays  has  pictures  of ;  only  he  was  smarter-looking 
than  any  Don  I  ever  see  in  my  life. 

"It  was  'bout  the  last  of  August  when  we  pulled  out 
from  Independence.  Comstock  staid  with  us  until  we  got 
ready  to  go,  and  then  lit  out  for  St.  Louis,  and  I  hain't 
never  seen  him  since.  The  caravan  had  seventy-five  six- 
mule  teams  in  it,  without  counting  ours,  loaded  with  dry- 
goods  and  groceries  for  Mora,  New  Mexico,  where  Colonel 
St.  Vrain,  the  owner,  lived  and  had  a  big  store.  We  had 
no  trouble  with  the  Ingins  going  back  across  the  plains  ; 
we  seen  lots,  to  be  siu-e,  hanging  on  our  trail,  but  they 
never  attacked  us  ;   we  was  too  strong  for  them. 

"  'Bout  the  last  of  September  we  reached  Bent's  Old 
Fort,  on  the  Arkansas,  where  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  crosses 
the  river  into  New  Mexico,  and  we  camped  there  the  night 
we  got  to  it. 

"  I  know'd  they  had  cows  up  to  the  fort  ;  so  just  before 
we  was  ready  for  supper,  I  took  Paul  and  started  to  see 
if  we  couldn't  get  some  milk  for  our  coffee.  It  wasn't 
far,  and  we  was  camped  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the 
gate,  just  outside  the  wall.  Well,  we  went  into  the 
kitchen,  Paul  right  alongside  of  me,  and  there  I  seen  a 
white  woman  leaning-  over  the  adobe  hearth  a  cooking 
—  they  had  always  only  been  squaws  before.  She  natu- 
rally looked  up  to  find  out  who  was  coming  in,  and  when 
she  seen  the  kid,  all  at  once  she  give  a  scream,  dropped 
the  dish-cloth  she  had  in  her  hand,  made  a  break  for  Paul, 


296  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

throw'd  her  arms  around  him,  nigh  upsetting  me,  and 
says,  while  she  was  a  sobbing  and  taking  on  dreadful,  — ■ 

"  '  My  boy  !  My  boy  !  Then  I  hain't  prayed  and  begged 
the  good  Lord  all  these  days  and  nights  for  nothing ! ' 
Then  she  kind  o'  choked  again,  while  Paul,  he  says,  as  he 
hung  on  to  her,  — 

"'0  mamma  !  0  mamma !  I  know'd  you'd  come  back  ! 
I  know'd  you'd  come  back  !  ' 

"  Well,  there,  boys,  I  just  walked  out  of  that  kitchen  a 
heap  faster  than  I'd  come  into  it,  and  shut  the  door. 
When  I  got  outside,  for  a  few  minutes  I  couldn't  see 
nothing,  I  was  worked  up  so.  As  soon  as  I  come  to,  I 
went  through  the  gate  down  to  camp  as  quick  as  my  legs 
would  carry  me,  to  tell  Thorpe  and  Curtis  that  Paul  had 
found  his  ma.  They  wanted  to  know  all  about  it,  but  I 
couldn't  tell  them  nothing,  I  was  so  dumfounded  at  the 
way  things  had  turned  out.  We  talked  among  ourselves 
a  moment,  then  reckoned  it  was  the  best  to  go  up  to  the 
fort  together,  and  ask  the  woman  how  on  earth  she'd 
got  shet  of  the  Ingins  what  had  took  her  off,  and  how  it 
come  she  was  cooking  there.  We  started  out  and  when 
we  got  into  the  kitchen,  there  was  Paul  and  Mrs.  Dale, 
and  you  never  see  no  people  so  happy.  They  was  just 
as  wild  as  a  stampeded  steer  ;  she  seemed  to  have  growed 
ten  years  younger  than  when  I  first  went  up  there,  and 
as  for  Paul,  he  was  in  heaven  for  certain. 

"First  we  had  to  tell  her  how  we'd  got  the  kid,  and 
how  we'd  learned  to  love  him.  All  the  time  we  was  tell- 
ing of  it,  and  our  scrimmages  with  the  Ingins,  she  was 
a  crying  and  hugging  Paul  as  if  her  heart  was  broke. 
After  we'd  told  all  we  know'd,  we  asked  her  to  tell  us 
her  story,  which  she  did,  and  it  showed  she  was  a  woman 
of  grit  and  education. 

"  She  said  the  Ingins.  what  had  captured  her  took  her 
up  to  their  camp  on  the  Saw  Log,  a  little  creek  north  of 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  297 

Fort  Dodge,  —  you  all  know  where  it  is,  — ■  and  there  she 
staid  that  night.  Early  in  the  morning  they  all  started 
for  the  north.  She  watched  their  ponies  mighty  close  as 
they  rid  along  that  day,  so  as  to  find  out  which  was  the 
fastest ;  for  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  make  her  escape 
the  first  chance  she  got.  She  looked  at  the  sun  once  in  a 
while,  to  learn  what  course  they  was  taking ;  so  that  she 
could  go  hack  when  she  got  ready,  strike  the  Sante  Fe 
Trail,  and  get  to  some  ranch,  as  she  had  seen  several 
while  passing  through  the  foot-hills  of  the  Raton  Range 
when  she  was  with  the  Mexican  train. 

"  It  was  on  the  night  of  the  fourth  day  after  they  had  left 
Saw  Log,  and  had  rid  a  long  distance,  —  was  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  on  their  journey,  —  when  she  determined 
to  try  and  light  out.  The  whole  camp  was  fast  asleep,  for 
the  Ingins  was  monstrous  tired.  She  crawled  out  of  the 
lodge  where  she'd  heen  put  with  some  old  squaws,  and 
going  to  where  the  ponies  had  heen  picketed,  she  took  a 
little  iron-gray  she'd  had  her  eye  on,  jumped  on  his  hack, 
with  only  the  lariat  for  a  bridle  and  without  any  saddle, 
not  even  a  blanket,  took  her  bearings  from  the  north  star, 
and  cautiously  moved  out.  She  started  on  a  walk,  until 
she'd  got  'bout  four  miles  from  camp,  and  then  struck  a 
lope,  keeping  it  up  all  night.  By  next  morning  she'd 
made  some  forty  miles,  and  then  for  the  first  time  since 
she'd  left  her  lodge,  pulled  up  and  looked  back,  to  see  if 
any  of  the  Ingins  was  following  her.  When  she  seen 
there  wasn't  a  living  thing  in  sight,  she  got  off  her  pony, 
watered  him  out  of  a  small  branch,  took  a  drink  herself, 
but  not  daring  to  rest  yet,  mounted  her  animal  again  and 
rid  on  as  fast  as  she  could  without  wearing  him  out  too 
quickly. 

"  Hour  after  hour  she  rid  on,  the  pony  appearing  to 
have  miraculous  endurance,  until  sundown.  By  that 
time  she'd  crossed  the  Saline,  the  Smoky  Hill,  and  got  to 


298  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

the  top  of  the  divide  between  that  river  and  the  Arkansas, 
or  not  more  than  forty  miles  from  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 
Then  her  wonderful  animal  seemed  to  weaken ;  she 
couldn't  even  make  him  trot,  and  she  was  so  nearly  played 
out  herself,  she  could  hardly  set  steady.  What  to  do,  she 
didn't  know.  The  pony  was  barely  able  to  move  at  a  slow 
walk.  She  was  afraid  he  would  drop  dead  under  her, 
and  she  was  compelled  to  dismount,  and  in  almost  a 
minute,  as  soon  as  she  laid  down  on  the  prairie,  was  fast 
asleep. 

"  She  had  no  idee  how  long  she  had  slept  when  she 
woke  up.  The  sun  was  only  'bout  two  hours  high. 
Then  she  know'd  she  had  been  unconscious  since  sundown 
of  the  day  before,  or  nigh  twenty-four  hours.  Rubbing 
her  eyes,  for  she  was  kind  o'  bewildered,  and  looking 
around,  there  she  saw  her  pony  as  fresh,  seemingby,  as 
when  she'd  started.  He'd  had  plenty  to  eat,  for  the  grass 
was  good,  but  she'd  had  nothing.  She  pulled  a  little 
piece  of  dried  buffalo-meat  out  of  her  bosom,  which  she'd 
brought  along,  all  she  could  find  at  the  lodge,  and  now 
nibbled  at  that,  for  she  was  mighty  hungry.  She  was 
terribly  sore  and  stiff  too,  but  she  mounted  at  once  and 
pushed  on,  loping  and  walking  him  by  spells.  Just  at 
daylight  she  could  make  out  the  Arkansas  right  in  front 
of  her  in  the  dim  gray  of  the  early  morning,  not  very  far 
off.  On  the  west,  the  Raton  Mountains  loomed  up  like 
a  great  pile  of  blue  clouds,  the  sight  of  which  cheered 
her  ;  for  she  know'd  she  would  soon  reach  the  Trail. 

"  It  wasn't  quite  noon  when  she  struck  the  Santa  Fe 
Trail.  When  she  got  there,  looking  to  the  east,  she  saw 
in  the  distance,  not  more  than  three  miles  away,  a  large 
caravan  coming,  and  then,  almost  wild  with  delight,  she 
dismounted,  sot  down  on  the  grass,  and  waited  for  it  to 
arrive.  In  less  than  an  hour,  the  train  come  up  to  where 
she  was,  and  as  good  luck  would  have  it,  it  happened  to 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  299 

be  an  American  outfit,  going  to  Taos  with  merchandise. 
As  soon  as  the  master  of  the  caravan  seen  her  setting  on 
the  prairie,  he  rid  up  ahead  of  the  wagons,  and  she  told 
him  her  story.  He  was  a  kind-hearted  man  ;  had  the  train 
stop  right  there  on  the  hank  of  the  river,  though  he 
wasn't  half  through  his  day's  drive,  so  as  to  make  her 
comfortable  as  possible,  and  give  her  something  to  eat; 
for  she  was  'bout  played  out.  He  bought  the  Ingin  pony, 
giving  her  thirty  dollars  for  it,  and  after  she  had  rested 
for  some  time,  the  caravan  moved  out.  She  rid  in  one  of 
the  wagons,  on  a  bed  of  blankets,  and  the  next  evening 
arrived  at  Bent's  Old  Fort.  There  she  found  women- 
folks, who  cared  for  her  and  nussed  her  ;  for  she  was 
dreadfully  sore  and  tired  after  her  long  ride.  Then  she 
was  hired  to  cook,  meaning  to  work  until  she'd  earned 
enough  to  take  her  back  to  Pennsylvany,  to  her  mother's, 
where  she  had  started  for  when  the  Ingins  attackted  the 
train. 

"  That  night,  after  listening  to  her  mirac'lous  escape, 
we  made  up  a  '  pot '  for  her,  collecting  'bout  eight  hun- 
dred dollars.  The  master  of  Colonel  St.  Vrain's  caravan, 
what  had  come  out  with  us,  told  her  he  was  going  back 
again  to  the  river  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  he'd  take  her 
and  Paul  in  without  costing  her  a  cent ;  besides,  she'd  be 
safer  than  with  any  other  outfit,  as  his  train  was  a  big 
one,  and  he  had  all  American  teamsters. 

"  Next  morning  the  caravan  went  on  to  Mora,  and 
after  we'd  bid  good-by  to  Mrs.  Dale  and  Paul,  before 
which  I  give  the  boy  two  hundred  dollars  for  himself, 
me,  Thorpe,  and  Curtis  pulled  out  with  our  team  north  for 
Frenchman's  Creek,  and  I  never  felt  so  miserable  before 
nor  since  as  I  did  parting  with  the  kid  that  morning. 
I  hain't  never  seen  him  since ;  but  he  must  be  nigh  forty 
now.  Mebby  he  went  into  the  war  and  was  killed ; 
mebby  he  got  to  be  a  general,  but  I  hain't  forgot  him." 


300  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Uncle  John  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and 
without  saying  another  word  went  into  the  tent.  In  a 
few  moments  the  camp  was  as  quiet  as  a  country  village 
on  Sunday,  excepting  the  occasional  howling  of  a  hungry 
wolf  down  in  the  timbered  recesses  of  the  Washita,  or  the 
crackling  and  sputtering  of  the  signal  fires  on  the  hilltops. 

In  a  few  days  afterward,  we  were  camping  on  Hack- 
berry  Creek,  in  the  Indian  Territory.  We  had  been 
living  on  wild  turkey,  as  before  for  some  time,  and  still 
longed  for  a  change.  At  last  one  of  my  hunters  suc- 
ceeded in  bagging  a 'dozen  or  more  quails.  Late  that 
evening,  when  my  cook  brought  the  delicious  little  birds, 
beautifully  spitted  and  broiled  on  peeled  willow  twigs, 
into  my  tent,  I  passed  one  to  Uncle  John.  Much  to  the 
surprise  of  every  one,  he  refused.  He  said,  "Boys.  I 
don't  eat  no  quail ! "' 

We  looked  at  him  in  astonishment ;  for  he  was  somewhat 
of  a  gourmand,  and  prided  himself  upon  the  "  faculty," 
as  he  termed  it,  of  being  able  to  eat  anything,  from  a 
piece  of  jerked  buffalo-hide  to  the  juiciest  young  antelope 
steak. 

I  remonstrated  with  the  venerable  guide ;  said  to  him, 
"  You  are  making  a  terrible  mistake,  Uncle  John.  To- 
morrow I  expect  to  leave  here,  and  as  we  are  going 
directly  away  from  the  buffalo  country,  we  don't  know 
when  we  shall  strike  fresh  meat  again.  You'd  better  try 
one,"  and  I  again  proffered  one  of  the  birds. 

"  Boys,"  said  he  again,  "  I  don't  tech  quail ;  I  hain't 
eat  one  for  more  than  twenty  years.  One  of  the  little 
cusses  saved  my  life  once,  and  I  swore  right  thar  and 
then  that  I  would  starve  first ;  and  I  have  kept  my  oath, 
though  I've  seen  the  time  mighty  often  sence  I  could 
a  killed  'em  with  my  quirt,  when  all  I  had  to  chaw  on  for 
four  days  was  the  soles  of  a  greasy  pair  of  old  moccasins. 

"Well,  boys,  it's  a  good   many  years  ago,  —  in   June, 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  301 

if  I  don't  disremember,  18-17.  We  was  a  coming  in  from 
way  up  in  Cache  le  Poudre  and  from  Yellowstone  Lake, 
whar  we'd  been  a  trapping  for  two  seasons.  We  was  a 
working  our  way  slowly  back  to  Independence,  Missouri, 
where  we  was  a  going  to  get  a  new  outfit.  Let's  see, 
there  was  me,  and  a  man  b}r  the  name  of  Boyd,  and  Lew 
Thorp,  —  Lew  was  a  working  for  Colonel  Boone  at  the 
time,  —  and  two  more  men,  whose  names  I  disremember 
now,  and  a  nigger  wench  we  had  for  a  cook.  We  had 
mighty  good  luck,  and  had  a  big  pile  of  skins ;  and  the 
Indians  never  troubled  us  till  we  got  dowu  on  Pawnee 
Bottom,  this  side  of  Pawnee  Rock.  We  all  of  us  had 
mighty  good  ponies,  but  Thorp  had  a  team  and  wagon, 
which  he  was  driving  for  Colonel  Boone. 

"  We  had  went  into  camp  on  Pawnee  Bottom  airly  in 
the  afternoon,  and  I  told  the  boys  to  look  out  for  Ingins 
—  for  I  knowed  ef  we  was  to  have  any  trouble  with  them 
it  would  be  somewhere  in  that  vicinity.  But  we  didn't 
see  a  darned  redskin  that  night,  nor  the  sign  of  one. 

"The  wolves  howled  considerable,  and  come  pretty 
close  to  the  fire  for  the  bacon  rinds  we'd  throwed  away 
after  supper. 

"  You  see  the  buffalo  was  scurse  right  thar  then  —  it 
was  the  wrong  time  o'  year.  They  generally  don't  get 
down  on  to  the  Arkansas  till  about  September,  and  when 
they're  scurse  the  wolves  and  coyotes  are  mighty  sassy, 
and  will  steal  a  piece  of  bacon  rind  right  out  of  the  pan, 
if  you  don't  watch  'em.  So  we  picketed  our  ponies  a 
little  closer  before  we  turned  in,  and  we  all  went  to  sleep 
except  one,  who  sort  o'  kept  watch  on  the  stock. 

"  I  was  out  o'  my  blankets  mighty  airly  next  morning, 
for  I  was  kind  o'  suspicious.  I  could  always  tell  when 
Ingins  was  prowling  around,  and  I  had  a  sort  of  pre- 
sentment something  was  going  to  happen  —  I  didn't  like 
the  way  the  coyotes  kept    yelling  — -so  I  rested  kind  o' 


302  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

oneasy  like,  and  was  out  among  the  ponies  by  the  first 
streak  o'  daylight. 

"  About  the  time  I  could  see  things,  I  discovered  three 
or  four  buffalo  grazing  off  on  the  creek  bottom,  about  a 
half-mile  away,  and  I  started  for  my  rifle,  thinking  1 
would  examine  her. 

"  Pretty  soon  I  seed  Thorp  and  Boyd  crawl  out  o'  their 
blankets,  too,  and  I  called  their  attention  to  the  buffalo, 
which  was  still  feeding  undisturbed. 

"  We'd  been  kind  o'  scurse  of  fresh  meat  for  a  couple 
of  weeks,  —  ever  since  we  left  the  Platte,  — except  a  jack- 
rabbit  or  cottontail,  and  I  knowed  the  boys  would  be 
wanting  to  get  a  quarter  or  two  of  a  good  fat  cow,  if  we 
could  find  one  in  the  herd,  so  that  was  the  reason  I  pointed 
'em  out  to  'em. 

"  The  dew,  you  see,  was  mighty  heavy,  and  the  grass  in 
the  bottom  was  as  wet  as  if  it  had  been  raining  for  a 
month,  and  I  didn't  care  to  go  down  whar  the  buffalo  was 
just  then  —  I  knowed  we  had  plenty  of  time,  and  as  soon 
as  the  sun  was  up  it  would  dry  right  off.  So  I  got  on  to 
one  of  the  ponies  and  led  the  others  down  to  the  spring 
near  camp  to  water  them  while  the  wench  was  a  getting 
breakfast,  and  some  o'  the  rest  o'  the  outfit  was  a  fixing  the 
saddles  and  greasing  the  wagon. 

"  Just  as  I  was  coming  back,  —  it  had  growed  quite 
light  then,  —  I  seed  Bo}'d  and  Thorp  start  out  from  camp 
with  their  rifles  and  make  for  the  buffalo ;  so  I  picketed 
the  ponies,  gets  my  rifle,  and  starts  off  too. 

"  By  the  time  I'd  reached  the  edge  of  the  bottom, 
Thorp  and  Boyd  was  a  crawling  up  on  to  a  young  bull 
way  off  to  the  right,  and  I  lit  out  for  a  fat  cow  I  seen 
bunched  up  with  the  rest  of  the  herd  on  the  left. 

"  The  grass  was  mighty  tall  on  some  parts  of  the 
Arkansas  bottom  in  them  days,  and  I  got  within  easy 
shooting1  range  without  the  herd  seems1  me. 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  303 

"  The  buffalo  was  now  between  me  and  Thorp  and  Boyd, 
and  they  was  furtherest  from  camp.  I  could  see  them  over 
the  top  of  the  grass  kind  o'  edging  up  to  the  bull,  and  I 
kept  a  crawling  on  my  hands  and  knees  toward  the  cow, 
and  when  I  got  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  her, 
I  pulled  up  my  rifle  and  drawee!  a  bead. 

"  Just  as  I  was  running  my  eyes  along  the  bar'l,  a 
darned  little  quail  flew  right  out  from  under  my  feet  and 
lit  exactly  on  my  front  sight  and  of  course  cut  off  my 
aim  —  we  didn't  shoot  reckless  in  those  days  ;  every  shot 
had  to  tell,  or  a  man  was  the  laughing-stock  for  a  month 
if  he  missed  his  game. 

"  I  shook  the  little  critter  off  and  brought  up  my  rifle 
again  when,  durn  my  skin,  if  the  bird  didn't  light  right 
on  to  the  same  place  ;  at  the  same  time  my  eyes  grow'd 
kind  o'  hazy-like  and  in  a  minute  I  didn't  know  nothing. 

"When  I  come  to,  the  quail  was  gone,  I  heerd  a  couple 
of  rifle  shots,  and  right  in  front  of  where  the  bull  had 
stood  and  close  to  Thorp  and  Boyd,  half  a  dozen  Ingins 
jumped  up  out  o'  the  tall  grass  and,  firing  into  the  two 
men,  killed  Thorp  instantly  and  wounded  Boyd. 

"He  and  me  got  to  camp,  —  keeping  off  the  Ingins, 
who  knowed  I  was  loaded,  —  when  we,  with  the  rest  of 
the  outfit,  drove  the  red  devils  away. 

"  They  was  Apaches,  and  the  fellow  that  shot  Thorp 
was  a  half-breed  nigger  and  Apache.  He  scalped  Thorp 
and  carred  off  the  whole  upper  part  of  his  skull  with 
it.  He  got  Thorp's  rifle  and  bullet-pouch  too,  and  his 
knife. 

"  We  buried  Thorp  in  the  bottom  there,  and  some  of 
the  party  cut  their  names  on  the  stones  that  they  covered 
his  body  up  with,  to  keep  the  coyotes  from  eating  up 
his  bones. 

"  Boyd  got  on  to  the  river  with  us  all  right,  and  I 
never  heerd  of  him  after  we  separated  at  Booneville.     We 


304  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

pulled  out  soon  after  the  Indians  left,  but  we  didn't  get 
no  buffalo-meat. 

"  You  see,  boys,  if  I'd  a  fired  into  that  cow,  the  devils 
would  a  had  me  before  I  could  a  got  a  patch  on  my  ball 

—  didn't  have  no  breech-loaders  in  them  days,  and  it 
took  as  much  judgment  to  know  how  to  load  a  rifle 
properly  as  it  did  to  shoot  it. 

"  Them  Ingins  knowed  all  that  —  they  knowed  I  hadn't 
fired,  so  they  kept  a  respectable  distance.  I  would  a  fired, 
but  the  quail  saved  my  life  by  interfering  with  my  sight 

—  and  that's  the  reason  I  don't  eat  no  quail.  I  hain't  super- 
stitious, but  I  don't  believe  they  was  meant  to  be  eat." 

Uncle  John  stuck  to  his  text,  I  believe,  until  he  died, 
and  you  could  never  disabuse  his  mind  of  the  idea  that 
the  quail  lighting  oh  his  rifle  was  not  a  special  interposi- 
tion of  Providence. 

Only  four  years  after  he  told  his  story,  in  1872,  one  of 
the  newly  established  settlers,  living  a  few  miles  west  of 
Larned  on  Pawnee  Bottom,  having  observed  in  one  of  his 
fields  a  singular  depression,  resembling  an  old  grave, 
determined  to  dig  down  and  see  if  there  was  any  special 
cause  for  the  strange  indentation  on  his  land. 

A  couple  of  feet  below  the  surface  he  discovered  several 
flat  pieces  of  stone,  on  one  of  which  the  words  "  Wash- 
ington "  and  "J.  Hildreth  "  were  rudely  cut,  also  a  line 
separating  them,  and  underneath:  "December  tenth" 
and  "J.  M.,  1850."  On  another  was  carved  the  name 
"  J.  H.  Shell,"  with  other  characters  that  could  not  be 
deciphered.  On  a  third  stone  were  the  initials  "  H.  R., 
1817  "  ;  underneath  which  was  plainly  cut  "  J.  R.  Boyd," 
and  still  beneath  "J.  R.  Pring."  At  the  very  bottom  of 
the  excavation  were  found  the  lower  portion  of  the  skull, 
one  or  two  ribs,  and  one  of  the  bones  of  the  leg  of  a  human 
being.  The  piece  of  skull  was  found  near  the  centre  of 
the  grave,  for  such  it  certainly  was. 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  305 

At  the  time  of  the  discovery  I  was  in  Lamed,  and  I 
immediately  consulted  my  book  of  notes  and  memoranda 
taken  hurriedly  at  intervals  on  the  plains  and  in  the  moun- 
tains, during  more  than  half  my  lifetime,  to  see  if  I  could 
find  anything  that  would  solve  the  mystery  attached  to 
the  quiet  prairie-grave  and  its  contents,  and  I  then  re- 
called Uncle  John  Smith's  story  of  the  quail  as  related  to 
me  at  my  camp.  I  also  met  Colonel  A.  G.  Boone  that 
winter  in  Washington;  he  remembered  the  circumstances 
well.  Thorp  was  working  for  him,  as  Smith  had  said,  and 
was  killed  by  an  Apache,  who,  in  scalping  him,  tore  the 
half  of  his  head  away,  and  it  was  thus  found  mutilated,  so 
many  years  afterward. 

Uncle  John  was  in  one  of  his  garrulous  moods  that 
night,  and  as  we  were  not  by  any  means  tired  of  hearing 
the  veteran  trapper  talk,  without  much  urging  he  told  us 
the  following  tale  :  — 

"  Well,  boys,  thirty  years  ago,  beaver,  mink,  and  otter 
was  found  in  abundacious  quantities  on  all  the  streams  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  trade  in  them  furs  was  a 
paying  business,  for  the  little  army  of  us  fellows  called 
trappers.  They  ain't  any  of  'em  left  now,  no  mor'n  the 
animals  we  used  to  hunt.  We  had  to  move  about  from 
place  to  place,  just  as  if  we  was  so  many  Ingins.  Some- 
times we'd  construct  little  cabins  in  the  timber,  or  a  dug- 
out where  the  game  was  plenty,  where  we'd  stay  maybe 
for  a  month  or  two,  and  once  in  a  while — though  not 
often  —  a  whole  year. 

"  The  Ingins  was  our  mortal  enemies;  they'd  get  a  scalp 
from  our  fellows  occasionally,  but  for  every  one  they  had 
of  ours  we  had  a  dozen  of  theirs. 

"  In  the  summer  of  1846,  there  was  a  little  half  dug- 
out, half  cabin,  opposite  the  mouth  of  Frenchman's  Creek, 
put  up  by  Bill  Thorpe,  Al  Boyd,  and  Rube  Stevens. 
Bill  and  Al  was  men  grown,  and  know'd  more  'bout  the 


306  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

prairies  and  timber  than  the  Ingins  themselves.  They'd 
hired  out  to  the  Northwest  Fur  Company  when  they  was 
mere  kids,  and  kept  on  trapping  ever  since.  Rube  — 
"  Little  Rube"  as  all  the  old  men  called  him  —  was  'bout 
nineteen,  and  plumb  dumb ;  he  could  hear  well  enough 
though,  for  he  wasn't  born  that  way.  When  he  was 
seventeen  his  father  moved  from  his  farm  in  Pennsylvany, 
to  take  up  a  claim  in  Oregon,  and  the  whole  family  was 
compelled  to  cross  the  plains  to  get  there ;  for  there  wasn't 
no  other  way.  While  they  was  camped  in  the  Bitter- 
Root  valley  one  evening,  just  'bout  sundown,  a  party  of 
Blackfeet  surprised  the  outfit,  and  massacred  all  of  them 
but  Rube.  They  carried  him  off,  kept  him  as  a  slave, 
and,  to  make  sure  of  him,  cut  out  his  tongue  at  the  roots. 
But  some  of  the  women  who  wasn't  quite  so  devilish  as 
their  husbands,  and  who  took  pity  on  him,  Avent  to  work 
and  cured  him  of  his  awful  wound.  He  was  used  mighty 
mean  by  the  bucks  of  the  tribe,  and  made  up  his  mind  to 
get  away  from  them  or  kill  himself  ;  for  he  could  not  live 
under  their  harsh  treatment.  After  he'd  been  with  them 
for  mor'n  a  year,  the  tribe  had  a  terrible  battle  with  the 
Sioux,  and  in  the  scrimmage  Rube  stole  a  pony  and  lit 
out.  He  rode  on  night  and  day  until  he  came  across  the 
cabin  of  the  two  trappers  I  have  told  you  'bout,  and  they, 
of  course,  took  the  poor  boy  in  and  cared  for  him. 

"  Rube  was  a  splendid  shot  with  the  rifle,  and  he  swore 
to  himself  that  he  would  never  leave  the  prairies  and  do 
nothing  for  the  rest  of  his  life  but  kill  Ingins,  who  had 
made  him  a  homeless  orphan,  and  so  mutilated  him. 

"  After  Rube  had  been  with  Boyd  and  Thorpe  a  year, 
they  was  all  one  day  in  the  winter  examining  their  traps 
which  was  scattered  'long  the  stream  for  miles.  After 
re-baiting  them,  they  concluded  to  hunt  for  meat,  which 
was  getting  scarce  at  the  cabin ;  they  let  Rube  go  down 
to  the  creek  where  it  widened  out  lake-like,  to  fish  through 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  307 

a  hole  in  the  ice,  and  Al  and  Bill  took  their  rifles  and 
hunted  in  the  timber  for  deer.  They  all  got  separated 
of  course,  Rube  being  furtherest  away,  while  Al  and  Bill 
did  not  wander  so  far  from  each  other  that  they  could  not 
be  heard  if  one  wanted  his  companion. 

"  Al  shot  a  fat  black-tail  deer,  and  just  as  he  was  going 
to  stoop  down  to  cut  its  throat,  Bill  yelled  out  to  him  :  — 

"  '  Drop  everything  Al,  for  God's  sake,  and  let's_  make 
for  the  dugout ;   they're  coming,  a  whole  band  of  Sioux  ! ' 

" '  If  Ave  can  get  to  the  cabin,'  replied  Al,  '  we  can 
keep  off  the  whole  nation.  I  wonder  where  Rube  is  ?  I 
hope  he'll  get  here  and  save  his  scalp.' 

"  At  this  instant,  poor  Rube  dashed  up  to  them,  an 
Ingin  close  upon  his  tracks  ;  he  had  unfortunately  for- 
gotten to  take  his  rifle  with  him  when  he  went  to  the 
creek,  and  now  he  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  savage ;  at 
least  both  he  and  his  pursuer  so  thought.  But  before 
the  Ingin  had  fairly  uttered  his  yell  of  exultation,  Al 
who  with  Bill  had  held  his  rifle  in  readiness  for  an  emer- 
gency, lifted  the  red  devil  off  his  feet,  and  he  fell  dead 
without  ever  knowing  what  had  struck  him. 

"  Rube,  thus  delivered  from  a  sudden  death,  ran  at  the 
top  of  his  speed  with  his  two  friends  for  the  cabin,  for,  if 
they  could  reach  it,  they  did  not  fear  a  hundred  paint- 
bedaubed  savages. 

"  Luckily  they  arrived  in  time.  Where  they  lived  was 
part  dugout  and  part  cabin.  It  was  about  ten  feet  high, 
and  right  back  of  it  was  a  big  ledge  of  rock,  which  made 
it  impossible  for  any  one  to  get  into  it  from  that  side. 
The  place  had  no  door ;  they  did  not  dare  to  put  one 
there  when  it  was  built,  for  they  were  likely  to  be  sur- 
prised at  any  moment  by  a  prowling  band,  so  the  only 
entrance  was  a  square  hole  in  the  roof,  through  which  one 
at  a  time  had  to  crawl  to  enter. 

"  The  boys  got  inside  all  right  just  as  the  Ingins  came 


308  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

a  yelling  up.  Bill  looked  out  of  a  hole  in  the  wall  and 
counted  thirty  of  the  devils,  and  said  at  once  :  '  Off  with 
your  coats ;  don't  let  them  have  anything  to  catch  hold 
of  but  our  naked  bodies  if  they  get  in,  and  we  can  handle 
ourselves  better.' 

"  '  Thirty  to  three,'  said  Al.  '  Whew  !  this  ain't  going 
to  be  any  boy's  play;  we've  got  to  fight  for  all  there  is  in 
it,  and  the  chances  are  mightily  agin  us.' 

"  Rube  he  took  an  axe,  and  stood  right  under  the  hole 
in  the  roof,  so  that  if  any  of  the  devils  got  in  he  could 
brain  them.  In  a  minute  five  rifles  cracked  ;  for  the  Ingins 
was  pretty  well  armed  for  them  times,  and  their  bullets 
rattled  agin  the  logs  like  hail  agin  a  tent.  Some  of  'em 
was  on  top  the  roof  by  this  time,  and  soon  the  leader  of 
the  party,  a  big  painted  devil,  thrust  his  ugly  face  into 
the  hole ;  but  he  had  hardly  got  a  good  look  before  Bill 
dropped  him  by  a  well-directed  shot  and  he  tumbled  in 
on  the  floor. 

" '  You  darned  fool,'  said  Bill,  as  he  saw  the  effect  of 
his  shot;   'did  you  think  we  was  asleep?  ' 

"There  was  one  opening  that  served  for  air,  and  a 
savage,  seeing  the  boys  had  forgotten  to  barricade  it, 
tried  to  push  himself  through,  an'  not  succeeding,  tried 
to  back  out,  but  at  that  instant  Bill  caught  him  by  the 
wrist — Bill  was  a  powerful  man  —  and  picking  up  a 
beaver-trap  that  laid  on  the  floor,  actually  beat  his  brains 
out  with  it. 

"While  this  circus  was  going  on  inside,  three  more  of 
the  Ingins  got  on  the  roof  and  wrenched  off  a  couple  of 
the  logs  that  covered  it;  but  in  a  minute  they  came  tum- 
bling down  and  lay  dead  on  the  floor. 

"  '  That  leaves  only  twenty-five,  don't  it  ?  '  inquired  Al, 
as  he  mopped  his  face  with  his  shirt-sleeve. 

" '  Howl,  you  red  devils,'  said  Bill,  as  the  Ingins  com- 
menced their  awful  yelling  when  they  saw  their  comrades 


UNCLE  JOHN    SMITH  309 

fall  into  the  room.  '  Don't  you  know,  you  blame  fools, 
you've  fell  in  with  experienced  hands  at  the  shooting 
business  ? ' 

"  Spat !  Something  hit  AT,  and  he  was  the  first  wounded, 
but  it  was  only  a  scratch,  and  he  kept  right  on  attending 
to  business. 

"'By  gosh!  look  at  Rube,  will  you?'  said  Al.  The 
dumb  boy  had  in  his  grasp  the  very  chief  of  the  band, 
who  had  just  then  discovered  the  hole  in  the  roof  made 
by  the  three  Ingins  who  had  passed  in  their  checks  for 
their  impudence,  and  was  trying  his  best  to  push  himself 
down.  Rube  had  made  a  strike  at  him  with  an  axe,  but 
the  edge  was  turned  aside,  and  the  savage  was  getting 
the  better  of  the  boy ;  he  had  grappled  Rube  by  the  hair 
and  one  arm,  and  they  was  flying  'round  like  a  wild  cat 
and  a  hound.  Bill  tried  three  times  to  sink  his  knife 
into  the  old  chief,  but  there  was  such  a  cavortin'  in  the 
wrastle  between  him  and  the  boy,  he  was  afraid  to  try 
any  more,  for  fear  it  might  hit  Rube  instead.  Suddenly 
the  Ingin  fell  to  the  floor  as  dead  as  a  trapped  beaver 
what's  been  drowned  ;  Rube  had  struck  his  buckhorn- 
handled  hunting-knife  right  into  the  heart  of  the  brute. 

'"Set  him  agin  the  hole  in  the  side  of  the  building,' 
said  Bill;  '  he  ain't  fit  for  nothing  else  than  to  stop  a  gap ; ' 
so  Rube  set  him  agin  the  hole,  and  pinned  him  there  with 
half  a  dozen  knives  what  was  lying  round  loose. 

"Just  as  they  had  fastened  the  dead  body  of  the  old 
chief  to  the  side  of  the  cabin,  a  perfect  shower  of  bullets 
came  rattling  round  like  a  hailstorm.  'All  right,  let's 
have  your  waste  lead,'  said  Bill. 

"  '  A  few  more  of  these  dead  Biffins  and  we  can  make  a 
regular  fort  of  this  old  cabin ;  we  want  two  for  that 
chunk,'  said  Al,  as  he  pointed  with  his  rifle  to  a  large 
gap  on  the  west  side  of  the  wall;  but  before  he  had  fairly 
got  the   words   out  of  his  mouth,  two  of  the   attacking 


310  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

party  jumped  down  into  the  room.  Al,  being  a  regular 
giant,  as  soon  as  they  landed,  surprised  them  by  seizing 
one  with  each  hand  by  the  throat,  and  he  actually  held 
them  at  arm's-length  till  he  had  squeezed  the  very  life  out 
of  them,  and  they  both  fell  corpses. 

"  While  Al  was  performing  his  two-lngin  act,  a  great 
light  burst  into  the  cabin,  and  by  the  time  he  had  choked 
his  enemies  to  death,  he  saw,  while  the  Ingins  outside 
gave  a  terrible  yell  of  exultation,  that  they  had  fired 
the  place. 

'"Damn  'em,'  shouted  Bill,  as  he  pitched  the  corpse  of 
the  chief  from  the  gap  where  Rube  had  set  him.  '  Fellows, 
we've  got  to  get  out  of  here  right  quick ;  follow  me, 
boys  ! ' 

"  Holding  their  rifles  in  hand,  and  clutching  a  huntine- 
knife  also,  they  stepped  out  into  the  brush  surrounding 
the  place,  and  started  on  a  run  for  the  heavy  timber  on 
the  bank  of  the  creek. 

"  They  had  reckoned  onluckily ;  a  wild  war-whoop 
greeted  the  flying  men  as  they  reached  the  edge  of  the 
forest,  and  without  being  able  to  use  their  arms,  they 
were  taken  prisoners.  Bill  and  Al,  fastened  with  their 
backs  against  each  other,  and  Little  Rube  by  himself, 
were  bound  to  separate  trees,  but  not  so  far  apart  that 
they  could  not  speak  to  each  other,  and  some  of  the 
Ingins  began  to  gather  sticks  and  pile  them  around  the 
trees. 

'"What  are  they  going  to  do  with  us'?'  anxiously  in- 
quired Bill  of  Al. 

"  '  Roast  us,  you  bet,'  replied  the  other.  '  They'll  find 
me  tough  enough,  anyhow.'  » 

" '  It  must  be  a  painful  death,'  soliloquized  Bill. 

"  '  Well,  it  isn't  the  most  pleasant  one,  you  can  gamble 
on  that,'  said  Al,  turning  his  looks  toward  Bill;  'but 
see  what  the  devils  are  doing  to  poor  Rube.' 


UNCLE   JOHN   SMITH  311 

"  Bill  cast  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  dumb  boy, 
who  was  fastened  to  a  small  pine,  about  a  hundred  feet 
distant.  Standing  directly  in  front  of  it  was  a  gigantic 
Ingin,  flourishing  his  scalping-knife  within  an  inch  of 
Rube's  head,  trying  to  make  the  boy  flinch.  But  the 
young  fellow  merely  scowled  at  him  in  a  rage,  his  muscles 
never  quivering  for  an  instant. 

"  While  the  men  were  trying  to  console  each  other, 
two  of  the  savages,  who  had  gone  away  for  a  short  time, 
returned,  bearing  the  carcass  of  the  deer  that  Al  had  killed 
in  the  morning,  and  commenced  to  cut  it  up.  They  had 
made  several  small  fires,  and  roasting  the  meat  before 
them,  began  to  gorge  themselves,  Indian  fashion,  with 
the  savoury  morsels.  The  men  were  awfully  hungry,  too, 
but  not  a  mouthful  did  they  get  of  their  own  game. 

"  The  Ingins  were  more'n  an  hour  feasting,  while  their 
prisoners  kept  a  looking  for  some  help  to  get  'em  out  of 
the  scrape  they  was  in. 

"  'Bout  a  mile  down  the  creek,  me  and  six  other  trap- 
pers had  a  camp,  and  that  morning,  being  scarce  of  meat, 
we  all  went  a  hunting.  We  had  killed  two  or  three  elk 
and  was  'bout  going  back  to  camp  with  our  game,  when 
we  heard  firing,  and  supposed  it  was  a  party  of  hunters, 
like  ourselves,  so  we  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  it  at 
first ;  but  when  it  kept  up  so  long,  and  there  was  such  a 
constant  volley,  I  told  our  boys  it  might  be  a  scrimmage 
with  a  party  of  red  devils,  and  we  concluded  to  go  and 
see. 

"  We  left  our  elk  where  they  were,  and  started  in  the 
direction  of  the  shooting,  taking  mighty  good  care  not 
to  be  surprised  ourselves.  We  crept  carefully  on,  and  a 
little  before  sundown  seen  a  camp-fire  burning  in  the 
timber  quite  a  smart  piece  ahead  of  us.  We  stopped  then, 
and  Ike  Pettet  and  myself  crept  on  cautiously  on  our 
hands  and  knees  through  the  brush  to  learn  what  the  fire 


312  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

meant.  In  a  little  while  we  seen  it  was  an  Ingin  camp, 
and  we  counted  twenty-two  warriors  seated  'round  their 
fires  a  eating  as  unconcernedly  as  if  we  warn't  nowhere 
near  'em.  We  didn't  feel  like  tackling  so  many,  so  just 
as  we  was  'bout  to  crawl  away  and  leave  'em  in  ondis- 
turbed  possession  of  their  camp,  we  heard  some  parties 
talking  in  English.  Then  we  pricked  up  our  ears  and 
listened  mighty  interested  I  tell  you.  Looking  'round, 
we  seen  the  men  tied  to  the  trees  and  the  wood  piled 
against  'em,  and  then  we  knowed  what  was  up.  We  had 
to  be  mighty  wary,  for  if  we  snapped  a  twig  even,  it  was 
all  day  with  us  and  the  prisoners  too  ;  so  we  dragged  our- 
selves back,  and  after  getting  out  of  sound  of  the  Ingins, 
we  just  got  up  and  lit  out  mighty  lively  for  the  place 
we'd  left  our  companions.  We  met  them  coming  slowly 
on  'bout  two  miles  from  the  Ingin  camp,  and  telling  'em 
what  was  up  we  started  to  help  the  trappers  what  the 
devils  was  agoing  to  burn.  We  wasn't  half  so  long  in 
getting  at  the  camp  as  Ike  and  me  was  in  going,  and  we 
soon  come  within  good  range  for  our  rifles. 

"  The  Ingins  was  still  unsuspicious,  and  we  spread  our- 
selves in  a  sort  of  half  circle  so  as  to  kind  o'  surround 
them,  and  at  a  signal  I  give,  seven  rifles  cracked  at  once, 
and  as  many  of  the  Injins  was  dropped  right  in  their 
tracks ;  a  second  volley,  for  the  red  devils  had  not  got 
their  senses  yet,  tumbled  seven  more  corpses  upon  the 
pile,  and  then  we  white  men  jumped  in  Avith  our  knives 
and  clubbed  rifles,  and  there  was  a  lively  scrimmage  for  a 
few  minutes.  The  few  Ingins  what  wasn't  killed  fought 
like  devils,  but  as  we  was  getting  the  best  of  'em  every 
second  they  turned  tail  and  ran. 

"  We'd  heard  the  firing  of  the  fight  at  the  cabin  just  in 
time  ;  and  as  we  cut  the  rawhide  strings  that  bound  the 
fellows  to  the  trees,  Ike,  who  was  a  right  fine  shot  and 
had  killed  three  at  one  time,  said  :   '  I  always  like  to  get 


UNCLE  JOHN   SMITH 


313 


two  or  three  of  the  red  devils  in  a  line  before  I  pull  the 
trigger;  it  saves  lead.' 

"  Then  we  all  went  back  to  our  camp  and  made  a  night 
of  it,  feasting  on  the  elk  we  had  killed,  and  talking  over 
the  wonderful  escape  of  the  boys  and  Little  Rube." 


v^W?/ 'ol '/lie  Cdidvbn  d Entile'. 


CHAPTER   XVI 


FAMOUS  MEN  OF  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL KIT  CAESON JIM 

BRIDGER JAMES  P.  BECKWOURTH UNCLE   DICK  WOOTON 

JIM   BAKER LUCIEN   B.   MAXWELL OLD    BILL   WILLIAMS 

TOM  TOBIN JAMES  HOBBS. 


"  Old  Jim  bdker" 


F  the  famous  men  whose 
lives  are  so  interwoven 
with  the   history  of  the 
Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  that 
the    story    of    the    great 
highway  is  largely  made 
up  of  their  individual  ex- 
ploits and  acts  of  bravery, 
it  has  been  my  fortune  to 
have   known   nearly    all 
intimately,  during  more 
than  a  third  of  a  century 
f     passed  on  the  great  plains 
and    in   the    Rocky   Moun- 
tains. 

First  of  all,  Christopher,  or  Kit, 
Carson,  as  he  is  familiarly  known  to  the  world,  stands  at 
the  head  and  front  of  celebrated  frontiersmen,  trappers, 
scouts,  guides,  and  Indian  fighters. 

I  knew  him  well  through  a  series  of  years,  to  the  date 
of  his  death  in  1868,  but  I  shall  confine  myself  to  the 
events  of  his  remarkable  career  along  the  line  of  the  Trail 
and  its  immediate  environs.  In  1826  a  party  of  Santa  Fe" 
traders  passing  near  his  father's  home  in  Howard  County, 

314 


KIT   CARSON  315 

Missouri,  young  Kit,  who  was  then  but  seventeen  years  old, 
joined  the  caravan  as  hunter.  He  was  already  an  expert 
with  the  rifle,  and  thus  commenced  his  life  of  adventure 
on  the  great  plains  and  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

His  first  exhibition  of  that  nerve  and  coolness  in  the 
presence  of  danger  which  marked  his  whole  life  was  in 
this  initial  trip  across  the  plains.  When  the  caravan  had 
arrived  at  the  Arkansas  River,  somewhere  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  great  bend  of  that  stream,  one  of  the  teamsters, 
while  carelessly  pulling  his  rifle  toward  him  by  the  barrel, 
discharged  the  weapon  and  received  the  ball  in  his  arm, 
completely  crushing  the  bones.  The  blood  from  the 
wound  flowed  so  copiously  that  he  nearly  lost  his  life 
before  it  could  be  arrested.  He  was  fixed  up,  however, 
and  the  caravan  proceeded  on  its  journey,  the  man  think- 
ing no  more  seriously  of  his  injured  arm.  In  a  few  da}'S, 
however,  the  wound  began  to  indicate  that  gangrene  had 
set  in,  and  it  was  determined  that  only  by  an  amputation 
was  it  possible  for  him  to  live  beyond  a  few  days.  Every 
one  of  the  older  men  of  the  caravan  positively  declined  to 
attempt  the  operation,  as  there  were  no  instruments  of 
any  kind.  At  this  juncture  Kit,  realizing  the  extreme 
necessity  of  prompt  action,  stepped  forward  and  offered 
to  do  the  job.  ,He  told  the  unfortunate  sufferer  that  he 
had  had  no  experience  in  such  matters,  but  that  as  no  one 
else  would  do  it,  he  would  take  the  chances.  All  the 
tools  that  Kit  could  find  were  a  razor,  a  saw,  and  the 
king-bolt  of  a  wagon.  He  cut  the  flesh  with  the  razor, 
sawed  through  the  bone  as  if  it  had  been  a  piece  of  joist, 
and  seared  the  horrible  wound  with  the  king-bolt,  which 
he  had  heated  to  a  white  glow,  for  the  purpose  of  stopping 
the  flow  of  blood  that  naturally  followed  such  rude  sur- 
gery. The  operation  was  a  complete  success ;  the  man 
lived  many  years  afterward,  and  was  with  his  surgeon 
in  many  an  expedition. 


316 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


Kit  Carson 


In  the  early  clays  of  the  commerce  of  the  prairies.  Car- 
son was  the  hunter  at  Bent's  Fort  for  a  period  of  eight 
years.  There  were  about  forty  men  employed  at  the 
place;  and  when  the  game  was  found  in  abundance  in  the 
mountains,  it  was  a  relatively  easy  task  and  just  suited 
to  his  love  of  sport,  but  when  it  grew  scarce,  as  it  often 
did,  his  prowess  was  tasked  to  its  utmost  to  keep  the  forty 
mouths  from  crying  for  food.  He  became  such  an  unerring 
shot  with  the  rifle  during  that  time  that  he  was  called  the 
"Nestor  of  the  Rocky  Mountains."  His  favourite  game 
was  the  buffalo,  although  he  killed  countless  numbers  of 
other  animals. 

All  of  the  plains  trihes  of  Indians,  as  did  the  powerful 
Utes  of  the  mountains,  knew  him  well;  for  he  had  often 


KIT   CARSON  317 

visited  in  their  camps,  sat  in  their  lodges,  smoked  the 
pipe,  and  played  with  their  little  boys.  The  latter  fact 
may  not  appear  of  much  consequence,  but  there  are  no 
people  on  earth  who  have  a  greater  love  for  their  boy 
children  than  the  savages  of  America.  The  Indians  all 
feared  him,  too,  at  the  same  time  that  they  respected  his 
excellent  judgment,  and  frequently  were  governed  by  his 
wise  counsel.  The  following  story  will  show  his  power 
in  this  direction.  The  Sioux,  one  of  the  most  numerous 
and  warlike  tribes  at  that  time,  had  encroached  upon  the 
hunting-grounds  of  the  southern  Indians,  and  the  latter 
had  many  a  skirmish  with  them  on  the  banks  of  the 
Arkansas  along  the  line  of  the  Trail.  Carson,  who  was 
in  the  upper  valley  of  the  river,  was  sent  for  to  come 
down  and  help  them  drive  the  obnoxious  Sioux  back  to 
their  own  stamping-ground.  He  left  Fort  Bent,  and 
went  with  the  party  of  Comanche  messengers  to  the  main 
camp  of  that  tribe  and  the  Arapahoes,  with  whom  they 
had  united.  Upon  his  arrival,  he  was  told  that  the  Sioux 
had  a  thousand  warriors  and  many  rifles,  and  the  Coman- 
ches  and  Arapahoes  were  afraid  of  them  on  account  of 
the  great  disparity  of  numbers,  but  that  if  he  would  go 
with  them  on  the  war-path,  they  felt  assured  they  could 
overcome  their  enemies.  Carson,  however,  instead  of 
encouraging  the  Comanches  and  Arapahoes  to  fight,  in- 
duced them  to  negotiate  with  the  Sioux.  He  was  sent 
as  mediator,  and  so  successfully  accomplished  his  mission 
that  the  intruding  tribe  consented  to  leave  the  hunting- 
grounds  of  the  Comanches  as  soon  as  the  buffalo  season 
was  over  ;  which  they  did,  and  there  was  no  more 
trouble. 

After  many  adventures  in  California  with  Fremont, 
Carson,  with  his  inseparable  friend,  L.  B.  Maxwell,  em- 
barked in  the  wool-raising  industry.  Shortly  after  they 
had  established  themselves  on  their  ranch,  the  Apaches 


318  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

made  one  of  their  frequent  murdering  and  plundering 
raids  through  Northern  New  Mexico,  killing  defenceless 
women  and  children,  running  off  stock  of  all  kinds,  and 
laying  waste  every  little  ranch  they  came  across  in  their 
wild  foray.  Not  very  far  from  the  city  of  Santa  Fe,  they 
ruthlessly  butchered  a  Mr.  White  and  his  son,  though 
three  of  their  number  were  slain  by  the  brave  gentlemen 
before  they  were  overpowered.  Other  of  the  blood-thirsty 
savages  carried  away  the  women  and  children  of  the  deso- 
lated home  and  took  them  to  their  mountain  retreat  in  the 
vicinity  of  Las  Vegas.  Mr.  White  was  a  highly  respected 
merchant,  and  news  of  this  outrage  spreading  rapidly 
through  the  settlements,  it  was  determined  that  the  sav- 
ages should  not  go  without  punishment  this  time,  at  least. 
Carson's  reputation  as  an  Indian  fighter  was  at  its  height, 
so  the  natives  of  the  country  sent  for  him,  and  declined 
to  move  until  he  came.  For  some  unexplained  reason, 
after  he  arrived  at  Las  Vegas,  he  was  not  placed  in  charge 
of  the  posse,  that  position  having  already  been  given  to 
a  Frenchman.  Carson,  as  was  usual  witli  him,  never 
murmured  because  he  was  assigned  to  a  subordinate  posi- 
tion, but  took  his  place,  ready  to  do  his  part  in  whatever 
capacity. 

The  party  set  out  for  the  stronghold  of  the  savages,  and 
rode  alight  and  clay  on  the  trail  of  the  murderers,  hoping 
to  surprise  them  and  recapture  the  women  and  children ; 
but  so  much  time  had  been  wasted  in  delays,  that  Carson 
feared  they  would  only  find  the  mutilated  bodies  of  the 
poor  captives.  In  a  few  days  after  leaving  Las  Vegas, 
the  retreat  of  the  savages  was  discovered  in  the  fastness 
of  the  mountains,  where  they  had  fortified  themselves  in 
such  a  manner  that  they  could  resist  ten  times  the  number 
of  their  pursuers.  Carson,  as  soon  as  he  saw  them,  with- 
out a  second's  hesitation,  and  giving  a  characteristic  yell, 
dashed  in,  expecting,  of  course,  that  the  men  would  follow 


KIT  CARSON  319 

him;  but  they  only  stood  in  gaping  wonderment  at  his 
bravery,  not  daring  to  venture  after  him.  He  did  not 
discover  his  dilemma  until  he  had  advanced  so  far  alone 
that  escape  seemed  impossible.  But  here  his  coolness, 
which  always  served  him  in  the  moment  of  supreme  dan- 
ger, saved  his  scalp.  As  the  savages  turned  on  him,  he 
threw  himself  on  the  off  side  of  his  horse,  Indian  fashion, 
for  he  was  as  expert  in  a  trick  of  that  kind  as  the  savages 
themselves,  and  rode  back  to  the  little  command.  He 
had  six  arrows  in  his  horse  and  a  bullet  through  his 
coat ! 

The  Indians  in  those  days  were  poorly  armed,  and  did 
not  long  follow  up  the  pursuit  after  Carson ;  for,  observing 
the  squad  of  mounted  Mexicans,  they  retreated  to  the  top 
of  a  rocky  prominence,  from  which  point  they  could  watch 
every  movement  of  the  whites.  Carson  was  raging  at  the 
apathy,  not  to  say  cowardice,  of  the  men  who  had  sent  for 
him  to  join  them,  but  he  kept  his  counsel  to  himself;  for 
he  was  anxious  to  save  the  captured  women  and  children. 
He  talked  to  the  men  very  earnestly,  however,  exhorting 
them  not  to  flinch  in  the  duty  they  had  come  so  far  to  per- 
form, and  for  which  he  had  come  at  their  call.  This  had 
the  desired  effect ;  for  he  induced  them  to  make  a  charge, 
which  was  gallantly  performed,  and  in  such  a  brave  man- 
ner that  the  Indians  fled,  scarcely  making  an  effort  to 
defend  themselves.  Five  of  their  number  were  killed  at 
the  furious  onset  of  the  Mexicans,  but  unfortunately,  as 
he  anticipated,  only  the  murdered  corpses  of  the  women 
and  children  were  the  result  of  the  victory. 

President  Polk  appointed  Carson  to  a  second  lieuten- 
ancy,1 and  his  first  official  duty  was  conducting  fifty 
soldiers  under  his  command  through  the  country  of  the 
'  Comanches,  who  were  then  at  war  with  the  whites.     A 

1  For  some  reason  the  Senate  refused  to  confirm  the  appointment,  and 
he  had  consequently  no  connection  with  the  regular  army. 


320  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

fight  occurred  at  a  place  known  as  Point  of  Rocks,1  where 
on  arriving,  Carson  found  a  company  of  volunteers  for  the 
Mexican  War,  and  camped  near  them.  About  dawn  the 
next  morning,  all  the  animals  of  the  volunteers  were  capt- 
ured by  a  band  of  Indians,  while  the  herders  were  con- 
ducting them  to  the  river-bottom  to  graze.  The  herders 
had  no  weapons,  and  luckily,  in  the  confusion  attending 
the  bold  theft,  ran  into  Carson's  camp;  and  as  he,  with 
his  men,  were  ready  with  their  rifles,  they  recaptured  the 
oxen,  but  the  horses  were  successfully  driven  off  by  their 
captors. 

Several  of  the  savages  were  mortally  wounded  by  Car- 
son's prompt  charge,  as  signs  after  they  had  cleared  out 
proved;  but  the  Indian  custom  of  tying  the  wounded  on 
their  ponies  precluded  the  chance  of  taking  any  scalps. 
The  wily  Comanche,  like  the  Arab  of  the  desert,  is  gener- 
ally successful  in  his  sudden  assaults,  but  Carson,  who 
was  never  surprised,  was  always  equal  to  his  tactics. 

One  of  the  two  soldiers  whose  turn  it  had  been  to  stand 
guard  that  morning  was  discovered  to  have  been  asleep 
when  the  alarm  of  Indians  was  given,  and  Carson  at  once 
administered  the  Indian  method  of  punishment,  making 
the  man  wear  the  dress  of  a  squaw  for  that  da)-.  Then 
going  on,  he  arrived  at  Santa  Fe,  where  he  turned  over 
his  little  command. 

While  there,  he  heard  that  a  gang  of  those  desperadoes 
so  frequently  the  nuisance  of  a  new  country  had  formed 

1  Point  of  Rocks  is  six  hundred  and  forty  seven  miles  from  Indepen- 
dence, and  was  always  a  favourite  place  of  resort  for  the  Indians  of  the 
great  plains  ;  consequently  it  was  one  of  the  most  dangerous  camping- 
spots  for  the  freight  caravans  on  the  Trail.  It  comprises  a  series  of 
continuous  hills,  which  project  far  out  on  the  prairie  in  bold  relief.  They 
end  abruptly  in  a  mass  of  rocks,  out  of  which  gushes  a  cold,  refreshing 
spring,  which  is,  of  course,  the  main  attraction  of  the  place.  The  Trail 
winds  about  near  this  point,  and  many  encounters  with  the  various  tribes 
have  occurred  there. 


KIT  CAKSON  321 

a  conspiracy  to  murder  and  rob  two  wealthy  citizens  whom 
they  had  volunteered  to  accompany  over  the  Trail  to  the 
States.  The  caravan  was  already  many  miles  on  its  way 
when  Carson  was  informed  of  the  plot.  In  less  than  an 
hour  he  had  hired  sixteen  picked  men  and  was  on  his 
march  to  intercept  them.  He  took  a  short  cut  across  the 
mountains,  taking  especial  care  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of 
the  Indians,  who  were  on  the  war-path,  but  as  to  whose 
movements  he  was  always  posted.  In  two  days  he  came 
upon  a  camp  of  United  States  recruits,  en  route  to  the 
military  posts  in  New  Mexico,  whose  commander  offered 
to  accompany  him  with  twenty  men.  Carson  accepted  the 
generous  proposal,  by  forced  marches  soo'n  overtook  the 
caravan  of  traders,  and  at  once  placed  one  Fox,  the  leader 
of  the  gang,  in  irons,  after  which  he  informed  the  owners 
of  the  caravan  of  the  escape  they  had  made  from  the 
wretches  whom  they  were  treating  so  kindly.  At  first 
the  gentlemen  were  astounded  at  the  disclosures  made  to 
them,  but  soon  admitted  that  they  had  noticed  many 
things  which  convinced  them  that  the  plot  really  existed, 
and  but  for  the  opportune  arrival  of  the  brave  frontiers- 
man it  would  shortly  have  been  carried  out. 

The  members  of  the  caravan  who  were  perfectly  trust- 
worthy were  then  ordered  to  corral  the  rest  of  the  conspira- 
tors, thirty-five  in  number,  and  they  were  driven  out  of 
camp,  with  the  exception  of  Fox,  the  leader,  whom  Carson 
conveyed  to  Taos.  He  was  imprisoned  for  several  months, 
but  as  a  crime  in  intent  only  could  be  proved  against  him, 
and  as  the  adobe  walls  of  the  house  where  he  was  confined 
were  not  secure  enough  to  retain  a  man  who  desired  to 
release  himself,  he  was  finally  liberated,  and  cleared  out. 

The  traders  were  profuse  in  their  thanks  to  Carson  for 
his  timely  interference,  but  he  refused  every  offer  of  re- 
muneration. On  their  return  to  Santa  Fe"  from  St.  Louis, 
however,  they  presented  him  with  a  magnificent  pair  of 


322  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

pistols,  upon  whose  silver  mounting  was  an  inscription 
commemorating  his  brave  deed  and  the  gratitude  of  the 
donors. 

The  following  summer  was  spent  in  a  visit  to  St. 
Louis,  and  early  in  the  fall  he  returned  over  the  Trail, 
arriving  at  the  Cheyenne  village  on  the  Upper  Arkansas 
without  meeting  with  any  incident  worthy  of  note.  On 
reaching  that  point,  he  learned  that  the  Indians  had 
received  a  terrible  affront  from  an  officer  commanding  a 
detachment  of  United  States  troops,  who  had  whij^ped  one 
of  their  chiefs;  and  that  consequently  the  whole  tribe 
was  enraged,  and  burning  for  revenge  upon  the  whites. 
Carson  was  the  first  white  man  to  approach  the  place  since 
the  insult,  and  so  many  years  .had  elapsed  since  he  was 
the  hunter  at  Bent's  Fort,  and  so  grievously  had  the 
Indians  been  offended,  that  his  name  no  longer  guaran- 
teed safety  to  the  party  with  whom  he  was  travelling,  nor 
even  insured  respect  to  himself,  in  the  state  of  excitement 
existing  in  the  village.  Carson,  however,  deliberately 
pushed  himself  into  the  presence  of  a  war  council  which 
was  just  then  in  session  to  consider  the  question  of 
attacking  the  caravan,  giving  orders  to  his  men  to  keep 
close  together,  and  guard  against  a  surprise. 

The  savages,  supposing  that  he  could  not  understand 
their  language,  talked  without  restraint,  and  unfolded 
their  plans  to  capture  his  party  and  kill  them  all,  partic- 
ularly the  leader.  After  they  had  reached  this  decision, 
Carson  coolly  rose  and  addressed  the  council  in  the 
Cheyenne  language,  informing  the  Indians  who  he  was, 
of  his  former  associations  with  and  kindness  to  their 
tribe,  and  that  now  he  was  ready  to  render  them  any  assist- 
ance they  might  require ;  but  as  to  their  taking  his  scalp, 
he  claimed  the  right  to  say  a  word.  . 

The  Indians  departed,  and  Carson  went  on  his  way;  but 
there  were  hundreds  of  savages  in  sight  on  the  sand  hills, 


KIT   CARSON  323 

and,  though  they  made  no  attack,  he  was  well  aware  that 
he  was  in  their  power,  nor  had  they  abandoned  the  idea 
of  capturing  his  train.  His  coolness  and  deliberation 
kept  his  men  in  spirit,  and  yet  out  of  the  whole  fifteen, 
which  was  the  total  number  of  his  force,  there  were  only 
two  or  three  on  whom  he  could  place  any  reliance  in  case 
of  an  emergency. 

When  the  train  camped  for  the  night,  the  wagons  were 
corralled,  and  the  men  and  mules  all  brought  inside  the 
circle.  Grass  was  cut  with  sheath-knives  and  fed  to  the 
animals,  instead  of  their  being  picketed  out  as  usual,  and 
as  large  a  guard  as  possible  detailed.  When  the  camp 
had  settled  down  to  perfect  quiet,  Carson  'crawled  outside 
it,  taking  with  him  a  Mexican  boy,  and  after  explaining 
to  him  the  danger  which  threatened  them  all,  told  him 
that  it  was  in  his  power  to  save  the  lives  of  the  company. 
Then  he  sent  him  on  alone  to  Rayedo,  a  journey  of  nearly 
three  hundred  miles,  to  ask  for  an  escort  of  United  States 
troops  to  be  sent  out  to  meet  the  train,  impressing  upon 
the  brave  little  Mexican  the  importance  of  putting  a  good 
many  miles  between  himself  and  the  camp  before  morning. 
And  so  he  started  him,  with  a  few  rations  of  food,  without 
letting  the  rest  of  his  party  know  that  such  measures  were 
necessary.  The  boy  had  been  in  Carson's  service  for  some 
time,  and  was  known  to  him  as  a  faithful  and  active  mes- 
senger, and  in  a  wild  country  like  New  Mexico,  with  the 
outdoor  life  and  habits  of  its  people,  such  a  journey  was 
not  an  unusual  occurrence. 

Carson  now  returned  to  the  camp,  to  watch  all  night 
himself,  and  at  daybreak  all  were  on  the  Trail  again.  No 
Indians  made  their  appearance  until  nearly  noon,  when 
five  warriors  came  galloping  up  toward  the  train.  As 
soon  as  they  came  close  enough  to  hear  his  voice,  Carson 
ordered  them  to  halt,  and  going  up  to  them,  told  how  he 
had  sent  a  messenger  to  Rayedo  the  night  before  to  inform 


324  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

the  troops  that  their  tribe  were  annoying  him,  and  that  if 
he  or  his  men  were  molested,  terrible  punishment  would 
be  inflicted  by  those  who  would  surely  come  to  his  relief. 
The  savages  replied  that  the}'  would  look  for  the  moccasin 
tracks,  which  they  undoubtedly  found,  and  the  whole  vil- 
lage passed  away  toward  the  hills  after  a  little  while, 
evidently  seeking  a  place  of  safety  from  an  expected  attack 
by  the  troops. 

The  young  Mexican  overtook  the  detachment  of  soldiers 
whose  officer  had  caused  all  the  trouble  with  the  Indians, 
to  whom  he  told  his  story ;  but  failing  to  secure  any  sym- 
pathy, he  continued  his  journey  to  Rayedo,  and  procured 
from  the  garrison  of  that  place  immediate  assistance. 
Major  Grier,  commanding  the  post,  at  once  despatched 
a  troop  of  his  regiment,  which,  by  forced  marches,  met 
Carson  twenty-five  miles  below  Bent's  Fort,  and  though 
it  encountered  no  Indians,  the  rapid  movement  had  a 
good  effect  upon  the  savages,  impressing  them  with  the 
power  and  promptness  of  the  government. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1865,  Carson  was  ordered,  with 
three  companies,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  depredations  of 
marauding  bands  of  Cheyennes,  Kiowas,  and  Comanches 
upon  the  caravans  and  emigrant  outfits  travelling  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail.  He  left  Fort  Union  with  his  command 
and  marched  over  the  Dry  or  Cimarron  route  to  the 
Arkansas  River,  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  forti- 
fied camp  at  Cedar  Bluffs,  or  Cold  Spring,  to  afford  a 
refuge  for  the  freight  trains  on  that  dangerous  part  of 
the  Trail.  The  Indians  had  for  some  time  been  harass- 
ing not  only  the  caravans  of  the  citizen  traders,  but  also 
those  of  the  government,  which  carried  supplies  to  the 
several  military  posts  in  the  Territory  of  New  Mexico. 
An  expedition  was  therefore  planned  by  Carson  to  punish 
them,  and  he  soon  found  an  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow 
near  the  adobe  fort  on  the  Canadian   River.     His  force 


KIT   CAKSON  325 

consisted  of  the  First  Regiment  of  New  Mexican  Volun- 
teer Cavalry  and  seventy-five  friendly  Indians,  his  entire 
command  numbering  fourteen  commissioned  officers  and 
three  hundred  and  ninety-six  enlisted  men.  With  these 
he  attacked  the  Kiowa  village,  consisting  of  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  lodges.  The  fight  was  a  very  severe 
one,  and  lasted  from  half-past  eight  in  the  morning  until 
after  sundown.  The  savages,  with  more  than  ordinary 
intrepidity  and  boldness,  made  repeated  stands  against 
the  fierce  onslaughts  of  Carson's  cavalrymen,  but  were 
at  last  forced  to  give  way,  and  were  cut  down  as  they 
stubbornly  retreated,  suffering  a  loss  of  sixty  killed  and 
wounded.  In  this  battle  only  two  privates  and  one  non- 
commissioned officer  were  killed,  and  one  non-commis- 
sioned officer  and  thirteen  privates,  four'  of  whom  were 
friendly  Indians,  wounded.  The  command  destroyed  one 
hundred  and  fifty  lodges,  a  large  amount  of  dried  meats, 
berries,  buffalo-robes,  cooking  utensils,  and  also  a  buggy 
and  spring-wagon,  the  property  of  Sierrito,1  the  Kiowa 
chief. 

In  his  official  account  of  the  fight,  Carson  states  that 
he  found  ammunition  in  the  village,  which  had  been 
furnished,  no  doubt,  by  unscrupulous  Mexican  traders. 

He  told  me  that  he  never  was  deceived  bjr  Indian  tac- 
tics but  once  in  his  life.  He  said  that  he  was  hunting 
with  six  others  after  buffalo,  in  the  summer  of  1835; 
that  they  had  been  successful,  and  came  into  their  little 
bivouac  one  night  very  tired,  intending  to  start  for  the 
rendezvous  at  Bent's  Fort  the  next  morning.  The}'  had 
a  number  of  dogs,  among  them  some  excellent  animals. 
These  barked  a  good  deal,  and  seemed  restless,  and  the 
men  heard  wolves. 

"I  saw,"  said  Kit,  "two  big  wolves  sneaking  about, 
one  of  them  quite  close  to  us.  Gordon,  one  of  my  men, 
1  "Little  Mountain." 


326  THE   OLD    SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

-x 

wanted  to  fire  his  rifle  at  it,  but  I  did  not  let  him,  for 
fear  he  would  hit  a  dog.  I  admit  that  I  had  a  sort  of 
an  idea  that  those  wolves  might  be  Indians ;  but  when  I 
noticed  one  of  them  turn  short  around,  and  heard  the 
clashing  of  his  teeth  as  he  rushed  at  one  of  the  dogs,  I 
felt  easy  then,  and  was  certain  that  they  were  wolves  sure 
enough.  But  the  red  devil  fooled  me,  after  all,  for  he 
had  two  dried  buffalo  bones  in  his  hands  under  the  wolf- 
skin, and  he  rattled  them  together  eveiy  time  he  turned 
to  make  a  dash  at  the  dogs  !  Well,  by  and  by  we  all 
dozed  off,  .and  it  wasn't  long  before  I  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a  noise  and  a  big  blaze.  I  rushed  out  the 
first  thing  for  our  mules,  and  held  them.  If  the  savages 
had  been  at  all  smart,  they  could  have  killed  us  in  a 
trice,  but  they  ran  as  soon  as  they  fired  at  us.  They 
killed  one  of  my  men,  putting  five  bullets  in  his  body 
and  eight  in  his  buffalo-robe.  The  Indians  were  a  band 
of  Sioux  on  the  war-trail  after  a  band  of  Snakes,  and 
found  us  by  sheer  accident.  They  endeavoured  to  ambush 
us  the  next  morning,  but  we  got  wind  of  their  little 
game  and  killed  three  of  them,  including  the  chief." 

Carson's  nature  was  made  up  of  some  very  noble  attri- 
butes. He  was  brave,  but  not  reckless  like  Custer;  a 
veritable  exponent  of  Christian  altruism,  and  as  true  to 
his  friends  as  the  needle  to  the  pole.  Under  the  average 
stature,  and  rather  delicate-looking  in  his  physical-  pro- 
portions, he  was  nevertheless  a  quick,  wiry  man,  with 
nerves  of  steel,  and  possessing  an  indomitable  will.  He 
was  full  of  caution,  but  showed  a  coolness, in  the  moment 
of  supreme  danger  that  was  good  to  witness. 

During  a  short  visit  at  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado,  where  a 
favourite  son  of  his  was  living,  early  in  the  morning  of 
May  23,  1868,  while  mounting  his  horse  in  front  of  his 
quarters  (he  was  still  fond  of  riding),  an  artery  in  his 
neck  was  suddenly  ruptured,  from  the  effects  of  which, 


KIT   CARSON  327 

% 

notwithstanding  the  medical  assistance  rendered  by  the 

fort  surgeons,  he  died  in  a  few  moments. 

His  remains,  after  reposing  for  some  time  at  Fort  Lyon, 
were  taken  to  Taos,  so  long  his  home  in  New  Mexico, 
where  an  appropriate  monument  was  erected  over  them. 
In  the  Plaza  at  Santa  Fe\  his  name  also  appears  cut  on 
a  cenotaph  raised  to  commemorate  the  services  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Territory.  As  an  Indian  fighter  he  was 
matchless.  The  identical  rifle  used  by  him  for  more  than 
thirty-five  years,  and  which  never  failed  him,  he  bequeathed, 
just  before  his  death,  to  Montezuma  Lodge,  A.  F.  &  A.  M., 
Santa  F^,  of  which  he  was  a  member. 

James  Bridger,  "  Major  Bridger,"  or  "  Old  Jim  Bridger," 
as  he  was  called,  another  of  the  famous  coterie  of  pioneer 
frontiersmen,  was  born  in  Washington,  District  of  Colum- 
bia, in  1807.  When  very  young,  a  mere  boy  in  fact,  he 
joined  the  great  trapping  expedition  under  the  leadership 
of  James  Ashley,  and  with  it  travelled  to  the  far  West, 
remote  from  the  extreme  limit  of  border  civilization, 
where  he  became  the  compeer  and  comrade  of  Carson,  and 
certainly  the  foremost  moimtaineer,  strictly  speaking,  the 
United  States  has  produced. 

Having  left  behind  him  all  possibilities  of  education  at 
such  an  early  age,  he  was  illiterate  in  his  speech  and  as 
ignorant  of  the  conventionalities  of  polite  society  as  an 
Indian ;  but  he  possessed  a  heart  overflowing  with  the 
milk  of  human  kindness,  was  generous  in  the  extreme, 
and  honest  and  true  as  daylight. 

He  was  especially  distinguished  for  the  discovery  of  a 
defile  through  the  intricate  mazes  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, which  bears  his  name,  Bridger's  Pass.  He  rendered 
important  services  as  guide  and  scout  during  the  early 
preliminary  surveys  for  a  transcontinental  railroad,  and 
for  a  series  of  years  was  in  the  employ  of  the  govern- 
ment, in  the  old  regular  army  on  the  great  plains  and  in 


328  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

the  mountains,  long  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War.  To  Bridger  also  belongs  the  honour  of  having  seen, 
first  of  all  white  men,  the  Great  Salt  Lake  of  Utah,  in  the 
winter  of  1824-25. 

After  a  series  of  adventures,  hairbreadth  escapes,  and 
terrible  encounters  with  the  Indians,  in  1856  he  pur- 
chased a  farm  near  Westport,  Missouri ;  but  soon  left  it 
in  his  hunger  for  the  mountains,  to  return  to  it  only  when 
worn-out  and  blind,  to  be  buried  there  without  even  the 
rudest  tablet  to  mark  the  spot. 

"  I  would  rather  sleep  in  the  southern  corner  of  a  little 
country  churchyard,  than  in  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets." 
This  quotation  came  to  my  mind  one  Sunday  morning  two 
or  three  years  ago,  as  I  mused  over  Bridger's  neglected 
grave  among  the  low  hills  beyond  the  quaint  old  tow,n  of 
Westport.  I  thought  I  knew,  as  I  stood  there,  that  he 
whose  bones  were  mouldering  beneath  the  blossoming 
clover  at  my  feet,  would  have  wished  for  his  last  couch 
a  more  perfect  solitude  and  isolation  from  the  wearisome 
world's  busy  sound  than  even  the  immortal  Burke. 

The  grassy  mound,  over  which  there  was  no  stone  to 
record  the  name  of  its  occupant,  covered  the  remains  of 
the  last  of  his  class,  a  type  vanished  forever,  for  the  border 
is  a  thing  of  the  past ;  and  upon  the  gentle  breeze  of  that 
delightful  morning,  like  the  droning  of  bees  in  a  full 
flowered  orchard,  was  wafted  to  my  ears  the  hum  of  Kan- 
sas City's  civilization,  only  three  or  four  miles  distant, 
in  all  of  which  I  was  sure  there  was  nothing  that  would 
have  been  congenial  to  the  old  frontiersman. 

At  one  time  early  in  the  '60's,  while  the  engineers  of  the 
proposed  Union  Pacific  Railway  were  temporarily  in  Den- 
ver, then  an  insignificant  mushroom-hamlet,  they  became 
somewhat  confused  as  to  the  most  practicable  point  in  the 
range  over  which  to  run  their  line.  After  debating  the 
question,  they  determined,  upon  a  suggestion  from  some 


KIT   CARSON  329 

of  the  old  settlers,  to  send  for  Jim  Bridger,  who  was 
then  visiting  in  St.  Louis.  A  pass,  via  the  overland  stage, 
was  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  him,  and  he  was  urged  to  start 
for  Denver  at  once,  though  nothing  of  the  business  for 
which  his  presence  was  required  was  told  him  in  the  text. 

In  about  two  weeks  the  old  man  arrived,  and  the  next 
morning,  after  he  had  rested,  asked  why  he  had  been  sent 
for  from  such  a  distance. 

The  engineers  then  began  to  explain  their  dilemma. 
The  old  mountaineer  waited  patiently  until  they  had 
finished,  when,  with  a  look  of  disgust  on  his  withered 
countenance,  he  demanded  a  large  piece  of  paper,  remark- 
ing at  the  same  time,  — 

"  I  could  a  told  you  fellers  all  that  in  St.  Louis,  and 
saved  you  the  expense  of  bringing  me  out  here." 

He  was  handed  a  sheet  of  manilla  paper,  used  for  draw- 
ing the  details  of  bridge  plans.  The  veteran  pathfinder 
spread  it  on  the  ground  before  him,  took  a  dead  coal  from 
the  ashes  of  the  fire,  drew  a  rough  outline  map,  and  point- 
ing to  a  certain  peak  just  visible  on  the  serrated  horizon, 
said, — 

"  There's  where  you  fellers  can  cross  with  your  road,  and 
nowhere  else,  without  more  diggin'  an'  cuttin'  than  you 
think  of." 

That  crude  map  is  preserved,  I  have  been  told,  in  the 
archives  of  the  great  corporation,  and  its  line  crosses  the 
main  spurs  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  just  where  Bridger 
said  it  could  with  the  least  work. 

The  resemblance  of  old  John  Smith,  another  of  the 
coterie,  to  President  Andrew  Johnson  was  absolutely  as- 
tonishing. When  that  chief  magistrate,  in  his  "  swinging 
around  the  circle,"  had  arrived  at  St.  Louis,  and  was  rid- 
ing through  the  streets  of  that  city  in  an  open  barouche, 
he  was  pointed  out  to  Bridger,  who  happened  to  be  there. 
But  the  venerable  guide  and  scout,  with  supreme  disgust 


330  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

depicted  on  his  countenance  at  the  idea  of  any  one  at- 
tempting to  deceive  him,  said  to  his  informant,  — 

"  H— 1 !  Bill,  you  can't  fool  me  !   That's  old  John  Smith." 

At  one  time  many  years  ago,  during  Bridger's  first  visit 
to  St.  Louis,  then  a  relatively  small  place,  a  friend  acci- 
dentally came  across  him  sitting  on  a  dry-goods  box  in  one 
of  the  narrow  streets,  evidently  disgusted  with  his  situation. 
To  the  inquiry  as  to  what  he  was  doing  there  all  alone, 
the  old  man  replied,  — 

"I've  been  settin'  in  this  infernal  canon  ever  sence 
mornin',  waitin'  for  some  one  to  come  along  an'  invite  me 
to  take  a  drink.  Hundreds  of  fellers  has  passed  both  ways, 
but  none  of  'em  has  opened  his  head.  I  never  seen  sich  a 
onsociable  crowd !  " 

Bridger  had  a  fund  of  most  remarkable  stories,  which  he 
had  drawn  upon  so  often  that  he  really  believed  them  to 
be  true. 

General  Gatlin,1  who  was  graduated  from  West  Point 
in  the  early  '30's,  and  commanded  Fort  Gibson  in  the 
Cherokee  Nation  over  sixty  years  ago,  told  me  that  he  re- 
membered Bridger  very  well ;  and  had  once  asked  the  old 
guide  whether  he  had  ever  been  in  the  great  canon  of  the 
Colorado  River. 

"Yes,  sir,"'  replied  the  mountaineer,  "I  have,  many  a 
time.  There's  where  the  oranges  and  lemons  bear  all  the 
time,  and  the  only  place  I  was  ever  at  where  the  moon's 
always  full !  " 

He  told  me  and  also  many  others,  at  various  times,  that 
in  the  winter  of  1830  it  began  to  snow  in  the  valley  of 
the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  continued  for  seventy  cbiys  with- 

1  General  Gatlin  was  a  North  Carolinian,  and  seceded  with  his  State  at 
the  breaking  out  o£  the  Rebellion,  but  refused  to  leave  his  native  heath  to 
fight,  so  indelibly  was  he  impressed  with  the  theory  of  State  rights.  He 
was  willing  to  defend  the  soil  of  North  Carolina,  but  declined  to  step 
across  its  boundary  to  repel  invasion  in  other  States. 


KIT   CARSON  331 

out  cessation.  The  whole  country  was  covered  to  a  depth 
of  seventy  feet,  and  all  the  vast  herds  of  buffalo  were 
caught  in  the  storm  and  died,  but  their  carcasses  were 
perfectly  preserved. 

"  When  spring  came,  all  I  had  to  do,"  declared  he,  "was 
to  tumble  'em  into  Salt  Lake,  an'  I  had  pickled  buffalo 
enough  for  myself  and  the  whole  Ute  Nation  for  years !  " 

He  said  that  on  account  of  that  terrible  storm,  which  an- 
nihilated them,  there  have  been  no  buffalo  in  that  region 
since. 

Bridger  had  been  the  guide,  interpreter,  and  companion 
of  that  distinguished  Irish  sportsman,  Sir  George  Gore, 
whose  strange  tastes  led  him  in  1855  to  abandon  life  in 
Europe  and  bury  himself  for  over  two  years  among  the 
savages  in  the  wildest  and  most  unfrequented  glens  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

The  outfit  and  adventures  of  this  titled  Nimrod,  con- 
ducted as  they  were  on  the  largest  scale,  exceeded  any- 
thing of  the  kind  ever  before  seen  on  this  continent,  and 
the  results  of  his  wanderings  will  compare  favourably  with 
those  of  Gordon  dimming  in  Africa. 

Some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  magnitude  of  his  out- 
fit when  it  is  stated  that  his  retinue  consisted  of  about 
fifty  individuals,  including  secretaries,  steward,  cooks,  fly- 
makers,  dog-tenders,  servants,  etc.  He  was  borne  over 
the  country  with  a  train  of  thirty  wagons,  besides  numer- 
ous saddle-horses  and  dogs. 

During  his  lengthened  hunt  he  killed  the  enormous 
aggregate  of  forty  grizzly  bears  and  twenty-five  hundred 
buffalo,  besides  numerous  antelope  and  other  small  game. 

Bridger  said  of  Sir  George  that  lie  was  a  bold,  dashing, 
and  successful  hunter,  and  an  agreeable  o-entleman.  His 
habit  was  to  lie  in  bed  until  about  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  then  he  took  a  bath,  ate  his  breakfast,  and 
set  out,  generally  alone,  for  the  day's  hunt,  and  it  was  not 


332  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

unusual  for  him  to  remain  oat  until  ten  at  night,  seldom 
returning  to  the  tents  without  augmenting  the  catalogue 
of  his  beasts.  His  dinner  was  then  served,  to  which  he 
generally  extended  an  invitation  to  Bridger,  and  after  the 
meal  was  over,  and  a  few  glasses  of  wine  had  been  drunk, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  from  some  book,  and  elicit- 
ing from  Bridger  his  comments  thereon.  His  favourite 
author  was  Shakespeare,  which  Bridger  "  reckin'd  was  too 
highfalutin"  for  him;  moreover  he  remarked,  "thet  he 
rather  calcerlated  that  thar  big  Dutchman,  Mr.  Full-stuff, 
was  a  leetle  too  fond  of  lager  beer,"  and  thought  it  would 
have  been  better  for  the  old  man  if  he  had  "stuck  to 
Bourbon  whiskey  straight." 

Bridger  seemed  very  much  interested  in  the  adventures 
of  Baron  Munchausen,  but  admitted  after  Sir  George  had 
finished  reading  them,  that  "he  be  dog'oned  ef  he  swal- 
lered  everything  that  thar  Baron  Munchausen  said,"  and 
thought  he  was  "  a  darned  liar,"  yet  he  acknowledged  that 
some  of  his  own  adventures  among  the  Blackfeet  would 
be  equally  marvellous  "  if  writ  down  in  a  book." 

A  man  whose  one  act  had  made  him  awe-inspiring  was 
Belzy  Dodd.  Uncle  Dick  Wooton,  in  relating  the  story, 
says  :  "  I  don't  know  what  his  first  name  was,  but  Belzy 
was  what  we  called  him.  His  head  was  as  bald  as  a 
billiard  ball,  and  he  wore  a  wig.  One  day  while  we  were 
all  at  Bent's  Fort,  while  there  were  a  great  number  of  Ind- 
ians about,  Belzy  concluded  to  have  a  bit  of  fun.  He 
walked  around,  eying  the  Indians  fiercely  for  some  time, 
and  finally,  dashing  in  among  them,  he  gave  a  series  of 
war-whoops  which  discounted  a  Comanche  yell,  and  pulling 
off  his  wig,  threw  it  down  at  the  feet  of  the  astonished  and 
terror-stricken  red  men. 

The  savages  thought  the  fellow  had  jerked  off  his  own 
scalp,  and  not  one  of  them  wanted  to  stay  and  see  what 
would  happen  next.     They  left  the  fort,  running  like  so 


KIT   CAUSON  333 

many  scared  jack-rabbits,  and  after  that  none  of  them 
could  be  induced  to  approach  anywhere  near  Dodd." 

They  called  him  "  The-white-man-who-scalps-himself," 
and  Uncle  Dick  said  that  he  believed  he  could  have 
travelled  across  the  plains  alone  with  perfect  safety. 

Jim  Baker  was  another  noted  mountaineer  and  hunter 
of  the  same  era  as  Carson,  Bridger,  Wooton,  Hobbs,  and 
many  others.  Next  to  Kit  Carson,  Baker  was  General 
Fremont's  most  valued  scout. 

He  was  born  in  Illinois,  and  lived  at  home  until  he  was 
eighteen  years  of  age,  when  he  enlisted  in  the  service  of 
the  American  Fur  Company,  went  immediately  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  remained  there  until  his  death.  He 
married  a  wife  according  to  the  Indian  custom,  from  the 
Snake  tribe,  living  with  her  relatives  many  years  and  cul- 
tivating many  of  their  habits,  ideas,  and  superstitions. 
He  firmly  believed  in  the  efficacy  of  the  charms  and  in- 
cantations of  the  medicine  men  in  curing  diseases,  divin- 
ing where  their  enemy  was  to  be  found,  forecasting  the 
result  of  war  expeditions,  and  other  such  ridiculous  mat- 
ters. Unfortunately,  too.  Baker  would  sometimes  take 
a  little  more  whiskey  than  he  could  conveniently  carry, 
and  often  made  a  fool  of  himself,  but  he  was  a  generous, 
noble-hearted  fellow,  who  would  risk  his  life  for  a  friend  at 
any  time,  or  divide  his  last  morsel  of  food. 

Like  mountaineers  generally,  Baker  was  liberal  to  a 
fault,  and  eminently  improvident.  He  made  a  fortune  by 
his  work,  but  at  the  annual  rendezvous  of  the  traders,  at 
Bent's  Fort  or  the  old  Pueblo,  would  throw  awa}'  the  earn- 
ings of  months  in  a  few  days'  jollification. 

He  told  General  Marcy,  who  was  a  warm  friend  of  his, 
that  after  one  season  in  which  he  had  been  unusually  suc- 
cessful in  accumulating  a  large  amount  of  valuable  furs, 
from  the  sale  of  which  he  had  realized  the  handsome  sum 
of    nine    thousand    dollars,   he    resolved   to   abandon   his 


334  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

mountain  life,  return  to  the  settlements,  buy  a  farm,  and 
live  comfortably  during  the  remainder  of  his  days.  He 
accordingly  made  ready  to  leave,  and  was  on  the  eve  of 
starting  when  a  friend  invited  him  to  visit  a  monte-bank 
which  had  been  organized  at  the  rendezvous.  He  was 
easily  led  away,  determined  to  take  a  little  social  amuse- 
ment with  his  old  comrade,  whom  he  might  never  see  again, 
and  followed  him;  the  result  of  which  was  that  the  whiskey 
circulated  freely,  and  the  next  morning  found  Baker  with- 
out a  cent  of  money;  he  had  lost  everything.  His  entire 
plans  were  thus  frustrated,  and  he  returned  to  the  moun- 
tains, hunting  with  the  Indians  until  he  died. 

Jim  Baker's  opinions  of  the  wild  Indians  of  the  great 
plains  and  the  mountains  were  very  decided  :  "  That  they 
are  the  most  onsartinist  varmints  in  all  creation,  an'  I 
reckon  thar  not  more'n  half  human ;  for  you  never  seed  a 
human,  arter  you'd  fed  an'  treated  him  to  the  best  fixin's  in 
your  lodge,  jis  turn  round  and  steal  all  your  horses,  or  ary 
other  thing  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  No,  not  adzactly. 
He  would  feel  kind  o'  grateful,  and  ask  you  to  spread  a 
blanket  in  his  lodge  ef  you  ever  came  his  way.  But  the 
Injin  don't  care  shucks  for  you,  and  is  ready  to  do  you  a  lot 
of  mischief  as  soon  as  he  quits  your  feed.  No,  Cap.,"  he 
said  to  Marcy  when  relating  this,  "  it's  not  the  right  way 
to  make  'em  gifts  to  buy  a  peace  ;  but  ef  I  war  gov'nor 
of  these  United  States,  I'll  tell  what  I'd  do.  I'd  invite  'em 
all  to  a  big  feast,  and  make  'em  think  I  wanted  to  have  a 
talk  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  got  'em  together,  I'd  light  in  and 
raise  the  har  of  half  of  'em,  and  then  t'other  half  would  be 
mighty  glad  to  make  terms  that  would  stick.  That's  the 
way  I'd  make  a  treaty  with  the  dog'oned  red-bellied  var- 
mints; and  as  sure  as  you're  born,  Cap.,  that's  the  only 
way." 

The  general,  when  he  first  met  Baker,  inquired  of  him 
if  he  had  travelled  much  over  the  settlements  of  the  United 


■-. 


KIT   CARSON  335 

States  before  he  came  to  the  mountains;  to  which  he  said: 
"Right  smart,  right  smart,  Cap."  He  then  asked  whether 
he  had  visited  New  York  or  New  Orleans.  "No,  I  hasn't, 
Cap.,  but  I'll  tell  you  whar  I  have  been.  I've  been  mighty 
nigh  all  over  four  counties  in  the  State  of  Illinois !  " 

He  was  very  fond  of  his  squaw  and  children,  and  usually 
treated  them  kindly ;  only  when  he  was  in  liquor  did  he  at 
all  maltreat  them. 

Once  he  came  over  into  New  Mexico,  where  General 
Marcy  was  stationed  at  the  time,  and  determined  that  for 
the  time  being  he  would  cast  aside  his  leggings,  moccasins, 
and  other  mountain  dress,  and  wear  a  civilized  wardrobe. 
Accordingly,  he  fitted  himself  out  with  one.  When  Marcy 
met  him  shortly  after  he  had  donned  the  strange  clothes, 
he  had  undergone  such  an  entire  chancre  that  the  general 
remarked  he  should  hardly  have  known  him.  He  did  not 
take  kindly  to  this,  and  said  :  "  Consarn  these  store  butes, 
Cap. ;  they  choke  my  feet  like  h — 1."  It  was  the  first  time 
in  twenty  years  that  he  had  worn  anything  on  his  feet  but 
moccasins,  and  they  were  not  ready  for  the  torture  inflicted 
by  breaking  in  a  new  pair  of  absurdly  fitting  boots.  He 
soon  threw  them  away,  and  resumed  the  softer  foot-gear 
of  the  mountains. 

Baker  was  a  famous  bear  hunter,  and  had  been  at  the 
death  of  many  a  grizzly.  On  one  occasion  he  was  setting 
his  traps  with  a  comrade  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Arkan- 
sas, when  they  suddenly  met  two  young  grizzly  bears  about 
the  size  of  full-grown  dogs.  Baker  remarked  to  his  friend 
that  if  they  could  "  light  in  and  kill  the  varmints "  with 
their  knives,  it  would  be  a  big  thing  to  boast  of.  They 
both  accordingly  laid  aside  their  rifles  and  "lit  in,"  Baker 
attacking  one  and  his  comrade  the  other.  The  bears  im- 
mediately raised  themselves  on  their  haunches,  and  were 
ready  for  the  encounter.  Baker  ran  around,  endeavouring 
to  get  in  a  blow  from  behind  with  his  long  knife  ;  but  the 


336  THE    OLD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL 

young  brute  he  had  tackled  was  too  quick  for  him,  and 
turned  as  he  went  around  so  as  always  to  confront  him 
face  to  face.  He  knew  if  he  came  within  reach  of  his 
claws,  that  although  young,  he  could  inflict  a  formidable 
wound ;  moreover,  he  was  in  fear  that  the  howls  of  the 
cubs  would  bring  the  infuriated  mother  to  their  rescue, 
when  the  hunters'  chances  of  getting  away  would  be  slim. 
These  thoughts  floated  hurriedly  through  his  mind,  and 
made  him  desirous  to  end  the  fight  as  soon  as  he  could. 
He  made  many  vicious  lunges  at  the  bear,  but  the  animal 
invariably  warded  them  off  with  his  strong  fore  legs  like 
a  boxer.  This  kind  of  tactics,  however,  cost  the  lively 
beast  several  severe  cuts  on  his  shoulders,  which  made  him 
the  more  furious.  At  length  he  took  the  offensive,  and 
with  his  mouth  frothing  with  rage,  bounded  toward  Baker, 
who  caught  and  wrestled  with  him,  succeeding  in  giving1 
him  a  death-wound  under  the  ribs. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  his  comrade  had  been  furi- 
ously engaged  with  the  other  bear,  and  by  this  time  had 
become  greatly  exhausted,  with  the  odds  decidedly  against 
him.  He  entreated  Baker  to  come  to  his  assistance  at 
once,  which  he  did ;  but  much  to  his  astonishment,  as  soon 
as  he  entered  the  second  contest  his  comrade  ran  off,  leav- 
ing him  to  fight  the  battle  alone.  He  was,  however,  again 
victorious,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  his  two 
antagonists  stretched  out  in  front  of  him,  but  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  "  I  made  my  mind  up  I'd  never  fight  nary  nother 
grizzly  without  a  good  shootin'-iron  in  my  paws." 

He  established  a  little  store  at  the  crossing  of  Green 
River,  and  had  for  some  time  been  doing  a  fair  business  in 
trafficking  with  the  emigrants  and  trading  with  the  Indians ; 
but  shortly  a  Frenchman  came  to  the  same  locality  and 
set  up  a  rival  establishment,  which,  of  course,  divided  the 
limited  trade,  and  naturally  reduced  the  income  of  Baker's 
business. 


t 


KIT   CARSON  337 

This  engendered  a  bitter  feeling  of  hostility,  which  soon 
culminated  in  a  cessation  of  all  social  intercourse  between 
the  two  men.  About  this  time  General  Marcy  arrived 
there  on  his  way  to  California,  and  he  describes  the 
situation  of  affairs  thus  :  — 

"  I  found  Baker  standing  in  his  door,  with  a  revolver 
loaded  and  cocked  in  each  hand,  very  drunk  and  immensely 
excited.  I  dismounted  and  asked  him  the  cause  of  all 
this  disturbance.  He  answered:  'That  thar  yaller-bellied, 
toad-eatin'  Parly  Voo,  over  thar,  an'  me,  we've  been  havin' 
a  small  chance  of  a  scrimmage  to-day.  The  sneakin'  pole- 
cat, I'll  raise  his  har  yet,  ef  he  don't  quit  these  diggins' ! ' 

"  It  seems  that  they  had  an  altercation  in  the  morning, 
which  ended  in  a  challenge,  when  they  ran  to  their  cabins, 
seized  their  revolvers,  and  from  the  doors,  which  were  only 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  each  other,  fired.  Then  they 
retired  to  their  cabins,  took  a  drink  of  whiskey,  reloaded 
their  revolvers,  and  again  renewed  the  combat.  This 
strange  duel  had  been  going'  on  for  several  hours  when 
I  arrived,  but,  fortunately  for  them,  the  whiskey  had  such 
an  effect  on  their  nerves  that  their  aim  was  very  unsteady, 
and  none  of  the  shots  had  as  yet  taken  effect. 

"  I  took  away  Baker's  revolvers,  telling  him  how  ashamed 
I  was  to  find  a  man  of  his  usually  good  sense  making  such 
a  fool  of  himself.  He  gave  in  quietly,  saying  that  he 
knew  I  was  his  friend,  but  did  not  think  I  would  wish  to 
have  him  take  insults  from  a  cowardly  Frenchman. 

"The  following  morning  at  daylight  Jim  called  at  my 
tent  to  bid  me  good-by,.  and  seemed  very  sorry  for  what 
had  occurred  the  day  before.  He  stated  that  this  was 
the  first  time  since  his  return  from  New  Mexico  that  he 
had  allowed  himself  to  drink  whiskey,  and  when  the  whis- 
key was  in  him  he  had  '  nary  sense.'  " 

Among  the  many  men  who  have  distinguished  them- 
selves as  mountaineers,  traders,  and  Indian  fighters  along 

z 


338  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

the  line  of  the  Old  Trail,  was  one  who  eventually  became 
the  head  chief  of  one  of  the  most  numerous  and  valorous- 
tribes  of  North  American  savages,  —  James  P.  Beckwourth. 
Estimates  of  him  vary  considerably.  Francis  Parkman, 
the  historian,  who  I  think  never  saw  him  and  writes  merely 
from  hearsay,  sa3rs :  "  He  is  a  ruffian  of  the  worst  class ; 
bloody  and  treacherous,  without  honor  or  honesty ;  such, 
at  least,  is  the  character  he  bears  on  the  great  plains.  Yet 
in  his  case  the  standard  rules  of  character  fail ;  for  though 
he  will  stab  a  man  in  his  slumber,  he  will  also  do  the  most 
desperate  and  daring  acts." 

I  never  saw  Beckwourth,  but  I  have  heard  of  him  from 
those  of  my  mountaineer  friends  who  knew  him  intimately; 
I  think  that  he  died  long  before  Parkman  made  his  tour  to 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  Colonel  Boone,  the  Bents,  Carson,. 
Maxwell,  and  others  ascribed  to  him  no  such  traits  as 
those  given  by  Parkman,  and  as  to  his  honesty,  it  is  an 
unquestioned  fact  that  Beckwourth  was  the  most  honest 
trader  among  the  Indians  of  all  who  were  then  engaged  in 
the  business.  As  Kit  Carson  and  Colonel  Boone  were  the 
only  Indian  agents  whom  I  ever  knew  or  heard  of  that 
dealt  honestly  with  the  various  tribes,  as  they  were  always 
ready  to  acknowledge,  and  the  withdrawal  of  the  former 
by  the  government  was  the  cause  of  a  great  war,  so  also 
Beckwourth  was  an  honest  Indian  trader. 

He  was  a  born  leader  of  men,  and  was  known  from  the 
Yellowstone  to  the  Rio  Grande,  from  Santa  Fe'  to  Indepen- 
dence, and  in  St.  Louis.  From  the  latter  town  he  ran 
away  when  a  boy  with  a  party  of  trappers,  and  himself 
became  one  of  the  most  successful  of  that  hardy  class. 
The  woman  who  bore  him  had  played  in  her  childhood 
beneath  the  palm  trees  of  Africa ;  his  father  was  a  native 
of  France,  and  went  to  the  banks  of  the  wild  Mississippi 
of  his  own  free  will,  but  probably  also  from  reasons  of 
political  interest  to  his  government. 


KIT   CARSON  339 

Iii  person  Beckwourth  was  of  medium  height  and  great 
muscular  power,  quick  of  apprehension,  and  with  courage 
of  the  highest  order.  Probably  no  man  ever  met  with 
more  personal  adventures  involving  danger  to  life,  even 
among  the  mountaineers  and  trappers  who  early  in  the 
century  faced  the  perils  of  the  remote  frontier.  From 
his  neck  he  always  wore  suspended  a  jDerforated  bullet, 
with  a  large  oblong  bead  on  each  side  of  it,  tied  in  place 
by  a  single  thread  of  sinew.  This  amulet  he  obtained 
while  chief  of  the  Crows,1  and  it  was  his  "  medicine," 
with  which  he  excited  the  superstition  of  his  warriors. 

His  success  as  a  trader  among  the  various  tribes  of 
Indians  has  never  been  surpassed;  for  his  close  intimacy 
with  them  made  him  know  what  would  best  please  their 
taste,  and  they  bought  of  him  when  other  traders  stood 
idly  at  their  stockades,  waiting  almost  hopelessly  for 
customers. 

But  Beckwourth  himself  said:  "The  traffic  in  whiskey 
for  Indian  property  was  one  of  the  most  infernal  practices 
ever  entered  into  by  man.  Let  the  most  casual  thinker 
sit  down  and  figure  up  the  profits  on  a  forty-gallon  cask 
of  alcohol,  and  he  will  be  thunderstruck,  or  rather  whis- 
key-struck. When  it  was  to  be  disposed  of,  four  gallons 
of  water  were  added  to  each  gallon  of  alcohol.  In  two 
hundred  gallons  there  are  sixteen  hundred  pints,  for  each 
one  of  which  the  trader  got  a  buffalo-robe  worth  five 
dollars.  The  Indian  women  toiled  many  long  weeks  to 
dress  those  sixteen  hundred  robes.  The  white  traders  got 
them  for  worse  than  nothing ;  for  the  poor  Indian  mother 
hid  herself  and  her  children  until  the  effect  of  the  poison 
passed   away   from    the   husband    and    father,  who    loved 

'The  name  of  "Crow,"  as  applied  to  the  once  powerful  nation  of 
mountain  Indians,  is  a  misnomer,  the  fault  of  some  early  interpreter.  The 
proper  appellation  is  "  Sparrowhawks,"  but  they  are  officially  recognized 
as  "  Crows." 


340 


THE    OLD    SANTA    FK   TRAIL 


them  when  he  had  no  whiskey,  and  abused  and  killed 
them  when  he  had.  Six  thousand  dollars  for  sixty  gal- 
lons of  alcohol  !  Is  it  a  wonder  with  such  profits  that 
men  got  rich  who  were  engaged  in  the  fur  trade  ?  Or 
was  it  a  miracle  that  the  buffalo  were  gradually  exter- 
minated ?  —  killed  with  so  little  remorse  that  the  hides, 
among  the  Indians  themselves,  were  known  by  the  ap- 
pellation of  '  A  pint  of  whiskey.' " 

Beckwourth  claims  to  have  established  the  Pueblo 
where  the  beautiful  city  of  Pueblo,  Colorado,  is  now  situ- 
ated. He  says:  "On  the  1st  of  October,  1842,  on  the 
Upper  Arkansas,  I  erected  a  trading-post  and  opened  a 
successful  business.  In  a  very  short  time  I  was  joined  by 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  free  trappers,  with  their  families. 
We  all  united  our  labour  and  constructed  an  adobe  fort 
sixty  yards  square.  By  the  following  spring  it  had 
grown  into  quite  a  little  settlement,  and  we  gave  it  the 
name  of  Pueblo." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

uncle     dick     wooton lucien     b.     maxwell old    bill 

williams  —  tom  tobin james  hobbs william  f.  cody 

(buffalo  bill). 


"Uncle  Dick' l/ooton 


IMMEDIATELY  after 
Kit  Carson,  the  second 
wreath  of  pioneer  lau- 
rels, for  bravery  and 
prowess  as  an  Indian 
fighter,  and  trapper, 
must  be  conceded  to 
Richens  Lacy  Wooton, 
known  first  as  "Dick," 
in  his  younger  days  on 
the  plains,  then,  when 
age  had  overtaken  him, 
as  "  Uncle  Dick." 
Born  in  Virginia,  his 
father,  when  he  was  but 
seven  years  of  age,  removed 
with  his  family  to  Kentucky, 
where  he  cultivated  a  tobacco  plantation.  Like  his  prede- 
cessor and  lifelong  friend  Carson,  j'oung  Wooton  tired  of 
the  monotony  of  farming,  and  in  the  summer  of  1836  made 
a  trip  to  the  busy  frontier  town  of  Independence,  Missouri, 
where  he  found  a  caravan  belonging'  to  Colonel  St.  Vrain 
and  the  Bents,  already  loaded,  and  ready  to  pull  out  for 
the  fort  built  by  the  latter,  and  named  for  them. 

341 


342  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAII, 

Wooton  had  a  fair  business  education,  and  was  superior 
in  this  respect  to  his  companions  in  the  caravan  to  which 
he  had  attached  himself.  It  was  by  those  rough,  but  kind- 
hearted,  men  that  he  was  called  "  Dick,"  as  they  could  not 
readily  master  the  more  complicated  name  of  "  Richens." 

When  he  started  from  Independence  on  his  initial  trip 
across  the  plains,  he  was  only  nineteen,  but,  like  all  Ken- 
tuckians,  perfectly  familiar  with  a  rifle,  and  could  shoot 
out  a  squirrel's  eye  with  the  certainty  which  long  practice 
and  hardened  nerves  assures. 

The  caravan,  in  which  he  was  employed  as  a  teamster, 
was  composed  of  only  seven  wagons;  but  a  larger  one, 
in  which  were  more  than  fifty,  had  preceded  it,  and  as  that 
was  heavily  laden,  and  the  smaller  one  only  lightly,  it 
was  intended  to  overtake  the  former  before  the  dangerous 
portions  of  the  Trail  were  reached,  which  it  did  in  a  few 
days  and  was  assigned  a  place  in  the  long  line. 

Every  man  had  to  take  his  turn  in  standing  guard, 
and  the  first  night  that  it  fell  to  young  Wooton  was  at 
Little  Cow  Creek,  in  the  Upper  Arkansas  valley.  Nothing 
had  occurred  thus  far  during  the  trip  to  imperil  the  safety 
of  the  caravan,  nor  was  any  attack  by  the  savages  looked 
for. 

Wooton's  post  comprehended  the  whole  length  of  one 
side  of  the  corral,  and  his  instructions  were  to  shoot  any- 
thin"'  he  saw  movinsr  outside  of  the  line  of  mules  farthest 
from  the  wagons.  The  young  sentry  was  very  vigilant. 
He  did  not  feel  at  all  sleepy,  but  eagerly  watched  for  some- 
thing that  might  possibly  come  within  the  prescribed  dis- 
tance, though  not  really  expecting  such  a  contingency. 

About  two  o'clock  he  heard  a  slight  noise,  and  saw 
something  moving  about,  sixty  or  seventy  yards  from 
where  he  was  lying  on  the  ground,  to  which  he  had  dropped 
the  moment  the  strange  sound  reached  his  ears.  Of  course, 
his  first  thoughts  were  of  Indians,  and  the  more  he  peered 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  343 

through  the  darkness  at  the  slowly  moving  object,  the 
more  convinced  he  was  that  it  must  be  a  blood-thirsty 
savage. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  blazed  away,  the  shot  rousing 
everybody,  and  all  came  rushing  with  their  guns  to  learn 
what  the  matter  was. 

Wooton  told  the  wagon-master  that  he  had  seen  what 
he  supposed  was  an  Indian  trying  to  slip  up  to  the  mules, 
and  that  he  had  killed  him.  Some  of  the  men  crept  very 
circumspectly  to  the  spot  where  the  supposed  dead  savage 
was  lying,  while  young  Wooton  remained  at  his  post 
eagerly  waiting  for  their  report.  Presently  he  heard  a 
voice  cry  out:  "I'll  be  d — d  ef  he  hain't  killed  'Old 
Jack ! ' " 

"  Old  Jack  "  was  one  of  the  lead  mules  of  one  of  the 
wagons.  He  had  torn  up  his  picket-pin  and  strayed  out- 
side of  the  lines,  with  the  result  that  the  faithful  brute 
met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  the  sentry.  Wooton  declared 
that  he  was  not  to  be  blamed  ;  for  the  animal  had  disobeyed 
orders,  while  he  had  strictly  observed  them  ! 1 

At  Pawnee  Fork,  a  few  days  later,  the  caravan  had  a 
genuine  tussle  with  the  Comanehes.  It  was  a  bright  moon- 
light night,  and  about  two  hundred  of- the  mounted  savages 
attacked  them.  It  was  a  rare  thine  for  Indians  to  begin,  a 
raid  after  dark,  but  they  swept  down  on  the  unsuspecting 
teamsters,  yelling  like  a  host  of  demons.  They  were 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows  generally,  though  a  few  of 
them  had  fusees.2  They  received  a  warm  greeting, 
although  they  were  not  expected,  the  guard  noticing  the 
savages    in    time   to  prevent  a  stampede  of  the  animals, 

1  Kit  Carson,  ten  years  before,  when  on  his  first  journey,  met  with  the 
same  adventure  while  on  post  at  Pawnee  Rock. 

2  The  fusee  was  a  fire-lock  musket  with  an  immense  bore,  from  which 
either  slugs  or  balls  could  be  shot,  although  not  with  any  great  degree  of 
accuracy. 


344  THE  OLD  SANTA  EE  TRAIL 

which  evidently  was  the  sole  purpose  for  which  they  came, 
as  they  did  not  attempt  to  break  through  the  corral  to  get 
at  the  wagons.  It  was  the  mules  they  were  after.  They 
charged  among  the  men,  vainly  endeavouring  to  frighten  the 
animals  and  make  them  break  loose,  discharging  showers 
of  arrows  as  they  rode  by.  The  camp  was  too  hot  for' 
them,  however,  defended  as  it  was  by  old  teamsters  who 
had  made  the  dangerous  passage  of  the  plains  many 
times  before,  and  were  up  to  all  the  Indian  tactics. 
They  failed  to  get  a  single  mule,  but  paid  for  their  temer- 
ity by  leaving  three  of  their  party  dead,  just  where  they 
had  been  tumbled  off  their  horses,  not  even  having  time 
to  carry  the  bodies  off,  as  they  usually  do. 

Wooton  passed  some  time  during  the  early  days  of  his 
career  at  Bent's  Fort,  in  1836-37.  He  was  a  great  favourite 
with  both  of  the  proprietors,  and  with  them  went  to  the 
several  Indian  villages,  where  he  learned  the  art  of  trading 
with  the  savages. 

The  winters  of  the  years  mentioned  were  noted  for  the 
incursions  of  the  Pawnees  into  the  region  of  the  fort. 
They  alwa}'S  pretended  friendship  for  the  whites,  when  any 
of  them  were  inside  of  its  sacred  precincts,  but  their  whole 
manner  changed  when  they  by  some  stroke  of  fortune 
caught  a  trapper  or  hunter  alone  on  the  prairie  or  in  the 
foot-hills;  he  was  a  dead  man  sure,  and  his  scalp  was  soon 
dangling  at  the  belt  of  his  cowardly  assassins.  Hardly  a 
day  passed  without  witnessing  some  poor  fellow  running 
for  the  fort  with  a  band  of  the  red  devils  after  him;  fre- 
quently he  escaped  the  keen  edge  of  their  scalping-knife, 
but  every  once  in  a  while  a  man  was  killed.  At  one  time, 
two  herders  who  were  with  their  animals  within  fifty  yards 
of  the  fort,  going  out  to  the  grazing  ground,  were  killed 
and  every  hoof  of  stock  run  off. 

A  party  from  the  fort,  comprising  only  eight  men, 
among  whom  was  young  Wooton,  made  up  for  lost  time 


UNCLE    DICK  WOOTON  345 

with  the  Indians,  at  the  crossing  of  Pawnee  Fork,  the 
same  place  where  he  had  had  his  first  fight.  The  men  had 
set  out  from  the  fort  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  a  small 
caravan  of  wagons  from  the  East,  loaded  with  supplies  for 
the  Bents1  trading  post.  It  happened  that  a  band  of  six- 
teen Pawnees  were  watching  for  the  arrival  of  the  train, 
too.1  Wooton's  party  were  well  mounted,  while  the  Paw- 
nees were  on  foot,  and  although  the  savages  were  two  to 
one,  the  advantage  was  decidedly  in  favour  of  the  whites. 
The  Indians  were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows  only,  and 
while  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  the  whites  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  shower  of  missiles  which  the  Indians  com- 
menced to  hurl  at  them,  the  latter  became  an  easy  prey  to 
the  unerring  rifles  of  their  assailants,  who  killed  thirteen 
out  of  the  sixteen  in  a  very  short  time.  The  remaining 
three  took  French  leave  of  their  comrades  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  conflict,  and  abandoning  their  arms  rushed  up 
to  the  caravan,  which  was  just  appearing  over  a  small 
divide,  and  gave  themselves  up.  The  Indian  custom  was 
observed  in  their  case,2  although  it  was  rarely  that  any 
prisoners  were  taken  in  these  conflicts  on  the  Trail. 
Another  curious  custom  was  also  followed.3  When  the 
party  encamped  they  were  well  fed,  and  the  next  morning 
supplied  with  rations  enough  to  last  them  until  they  could 
reach  one  of  their  villages,  and  sent  off  to  tell  their  head 
chief  what  had  become  of  the  rest  of  his  warriors. 

1  The  Indians  always  knew  when  the  caravans  were  to  pass  certain 
points  on  the  Trail,  hy  their  runners  or  spies  probably. 

2  It  was  one  of  the  rigid  laws  of  Indian  hospitality  always  to  respect 
the  person  of  any  one  who  voluntarily  entered  their  camps  or  temporary 
halting-places.  As  long  as  the  stranger,  red  or  white,  remained  with 
them,  he  enjoyed  perfect  immunity  from  harm  ;  but  after  he  had  left, 
although  he  had  progressed  but  half  a  mile,  it  was  just  as  honourable  to 
follow  and  kill  him. 

3  In  their  own  fights  with  their  enemies  one  or  two  of  the  defeated 
party  are  always  spared,  and  sent  back  to  their  tribe  to  carry  the  news  of 
the  slaughter. 


346  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Wooton  had  an  adventure  once  while  he  was  stationed 
at  Bent's  Fort  during  a  trading  expedition  with  the  Utes, 
on  the  Purgatoire,  or  Purgatory  River,1  about  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  Trinidad.  He  had  taken  with  him,  with 
others,  a  Shawnee  Indian.  Only  a  short  time  before  their 
departure  from  the  fort,  an  Indian  of  that  tribe  had  been 
murdered  by  a  Ute,  and  one  day  this  Shawnee  who  was 
with  Wooton  spied  a  Ute,  when  revenge  inspired  him,  and 
he  forthwith  killed  his  enemy.  Knowing  that  as  soon  as 
the  news  of  the  shooting  reached  the  Ute  village,  which 
was  not  a  great  distance  off,  the  whole  tribe  would  be 
down  upon  him,  Wooton  abandoned  any  attempt  to  trade 
with  them  and  tried  to  get  out  of  their  country  as  quickly 
as  he  could. 

As  he  expected,  the  Utes  followed  on  his  trail,  and  came 
up  with  his  little  party  on  a  prairie  where  there  was  not 
the  slightest  chance    to   ambush   or   hide.     They  had  to 

1  The  story  of  the  way  in  which  this  name  became  corrupted  into 
"Picketwire,"  by  which  it  is  generally  known  in  New  Mexico,  is  this: 
When  Spain  owned  all  Mexico  and  Florida,  as  the  vast  region  of  the 
Mississippi  valley  was  called,  long  before  the  United  States  had  an 
existence  as  a  separate  government,  the  commanding  officer  at  Santa 
Fe"  received  an  order  to  open  communication  with  the  country  of  Florida. 
For  this  purpose  an  infantry  regiment  was  selected.  It  left  Santa  F£ 
rather  late  in  the  season,  and  wintered  at  a  point  on  the  Old  Trail  now 
known  as  Trinidad.  In  the  spring,  the  colonel,  leaving  all  camp-followers 
behind  him,  both  men  and  women,  marched  down  the  stream,  which  flows 
for  many  miles  through  a  magnificent  canon.  Not  one  of  the  regiment 
returned  or  was  ever  heard  of.  When  all  hope  had  departed  from  the 
wives,  children,  and  friends  left  behind  at  Trinidad,  information  was  sent 
to  Santa  F6,  and  a  wail  went  up  through  the  land.  The  priests  and 
people  then  called  this  stream  "  El  Rio  de  las  Animas  Perditas"  ("The 
river  of  lost  souls  ").  Years  after,  when  the  Spanish  power  was  weakened, 
and  French  trappers  came  into  the  country  under  the  auspices  of  the  great 
fur  companies,  they  adopted  a  more  concise  name  ;  they  called  the  river 
"  Le  Purgatoire."  Then  came  the  Great  American  Bull-Whacker.  Utterly 
unable  to  twist  his  tongue  into  any  such  Frenchified  expression,  he  called 
the  stream  with  its  sad  story  "  Picketwire,"  and  by  that  name  it  is  known 
to  all  frontiersmen,  trappers,  and  the  settlers  along  its  banks. 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  347 

fight,  because  they  could  not  help  it,  but  resolved  to  sell 
their  lives' as  dearly  as  possible,  as  the  Utes  outnumbered 
them  twenty  to  one  ;  Wooton  having  only  eight  men  with 
him,  including  the  Shawnee. 

The  pack-animals,  of  which  they  had  a  great  many, 
loaded  with  the  goods  intended  for  the  savages,  were  cor- 
ralled in  a  circle,  inside  of  which  the  men  hurried  them- 
selves and  awaited  the  first  assault  of  the  foe.  In  a  few 
moments  the  Utes  began  to  circle  around  the  trappers  and 
open  fire.  The  trappers  promptly  responded,  and  they 
made  every  shot  count;  for  all  of  the  men,  not  even  ex- 
cepting the  Shawnee,  were  experts  with  the  rifle.  They 
did  not  mind  the  arrows  which  the  Utes  showered  upon 
-them,  as  few,  if  any,  reached  to  where  they  stood.  The 
savages  had  a  few  guns,  but  they  were  of  the  poorest 
quality;  besides,  they  did  not  know  how  to  handle  them 
then  as  they  learned  to  do  later,  so  their  bullets  were 
almost  as  harmless  as  their  arrows. 

The  trappers  made  terrible  havoc  among  the  Utes' 
horses,  killing  so  many  of  them  that  the  savages  in  despair 
abandoned  the  fight  and  gave  Wooton  and  his  men  an 
opportunity  to  get  away,  which  they  did  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

The  Raton  Pass,  through  which  the  Old  Trail  ran,  was 
a  relatively  fair  mountain  road,  but  originally  it  was  al- 
most impossible  for  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  wheeled 
vehicle  to  get  over  the  narrow  rock-ribbed  barrier ;  saddle 
horses  and  pack-mules  could,  however,  make  the  trip  with- 
out much  difficulty.  It  was  the  natural  highway  to 
southeastern  Colorado  and  northeastern  New  Mexico,  but 
the  overland  coaches  could  not  get  to  Trinidad  by  the 
shortest  route,  and  as  the  caravans  also  desired  to  make 
the  same  line,  it  occurred  to  Uncle  Dick  that  he  would 
undertake  to  hew  out  a  road  through  the  pass,  which, 
barring  grades,  should  be  as  good  as  the  average  turnpike. 


348  THE   OLD   SANTA    FE   TRAIL 

He  could  see  money  in  it  for  him,  as  he  expected  to  charge 
toll,  keeping  the  road  in  repair  at  his  own  expense,  and  he 
succeeded  in  procuring  from  the  legislatures  of  Colorado 
and  New  Mexico  charters  covering  the  rights  and  privi- 
leges which  he  demanded  for  his  project. 

In  the  spring  of  1866,  Uncle  Dick  took  up  his  abode  on 
the  top  of  the  mountains,  built  his  home,  and  lived  there 
until  two  years  ago,  when  he  died  at  a  very  ripe  old  age. 

The  old  trapper  had  imposed  on  himself  anything  but 
an  easy  task  in  constructing  his  toll-road.  There  were 
great  hillsides  to  cut  out,  immense  ledges  of  rocks  to  blast, 
bridges  to  build  by  the  dozen,  and  huge  trees  to  fell,  be- 
sides long  lines  of  difficult  grading  to  engineer. 

Eventually  Uncle  Dick's  road  was  a  fact,  but  when  it 
was  completed,  how  to  make  it  pay  was  a  question  that 
seriously  disturbed  his  mind.  The  method  he  employed 
to  solve  the  problem  I  will  quote  in  his  own  words :  "  Such 
a  thing  as  a  toll-road  was  unknown  in  the  country  at  that 
time.  People  who  had  come  from  the  States  understood, 
of  course,  that  the  object  of  building  a  turnpike  was  to 
enable  the  owner  to  collect  toll  from  those  who  travelled 
over  it,'  but  I  had  to  deal  with  a  great  many  people  who 
seemed  to  think  that  they  should  be  as  free  to  travel  over 
my  well-graded  and  bridged  roadway  as  they  were  to 
follow  an  ordinary  cow  path. 

"  I  may  say  that  I  had  five  classes  of  patrons  to  do 
business  with.  There  was  the  stage  company  and  its 
employees,  the  freighters,  the  military  authorities,  who 
marched  troops  and  transported  supplies  over  the  road, 
the  Mexicans,  and  the  Indians. 

"With  the  stage  company,  the  military  authorities,  and 
the  American  freighters  I  had  no  trouble.  With  the 
Indians,  when  a  band  came  through  now  and  then,  I 
didn't  care  to  have  any  controversy  about  so  small  a 
matter  as  a  few  dollars  toll!     Whenever  they  came  along, 


UNCLE   DICK    WOOTON  349 

the  toll-gate  went  up,  and  any  other  little  thing  I  could 
do  to  hurry  them  on  was  done  promptly  and  cheerfully. 
While  the  Indians  didn't  understand,  anything  about  the 
S3"stem  of  collecting  tolls,  they  seemed  to  recognize  the 
fact  that  I  had  a  right  to  control  the  road,  and  they  would 
generally  ride  up  to  the  gate  and  ask  permission  to  go 
through.  Once  in  a  while  the  chief  of  a  band  would 
think  compensation  for  the  privilege  of  going  through  in 
order,  and  would  make  me  a  present  of  a  buckskin  or 
something  of  that  sort. 

"My  Mexican  patrons  were  the  hardest  to  get  along 
with.  Paying  for  the  privilege  of  travelling  over  any 
road  was  something  they  were  totally  unused  to,  and  they 
did  not  take  to  it  kindly.  They  were  pleased  with  my 
road  and  liked  to  travel  over  it,  until  they  came  to  the 
toll-gate.  This  they  seemed  to  look  upon  as  an  obstruc- 
tion that  no  man  had  a  right  to  place  in  the  way  of  a  free- 
born  native  of  the  mountain  region.  They  appeared  to 
regard  the  toll-gate  as  a  new  scheme  for  holding  up 
travellers  for  the  purpose  of  robbery,  and  many  of  them 
evidently  thought  me  a  kind  of  freebooter,  who  ought  to 
be  suppressed  by  law. 

"  Holding  these  views,  when  I  asked  them  for  a  certain 
amount  of  money,  before  raising  the  toll-gate,  they  natu- 
rally differed  with  me  very  frequently  about  the  propriety 
of  complying  with  the  request. 

"In  other  words,  there  would  be  at  such  times  probably 
an  honest  difference  of  opinion  between  the  man  who  kept 
the  toll-gate  and  the  man  who  wanted  to  get  through  it. 
Anyhow,  there  was  a  difference,  and  such  differences  had 
to  be  adjusted.  Sometimes  I  did  it  through  diplomacy, 
and  sometimes  I  did  it  with  a  club.  It  was  always  settled 
one  way,  however,  and  that  was  in  accordance  with  the 
toll  schedule,  so  that  I  could  never  have  been  charged 
with  unjust  discrimination  of  rates." 


350  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Soon  after  the  road  was  opened  a  company  composed  of 
Californians  and  Mexicans,  commanded  by  a  Captain 
Haley,  passed  Uncle  Dick's  toll-gate  and  house,  escorting 
a  large  caravan  of  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  wagons. 
While  they  stopped  there,  a  non-commissioned  officer  of 
the  party  was  brutally  murdered  by  three  soldiers,  and 
Uncle  Dick  came  very  near  being  a  witness  to  the  atrocious 
deed. 

The  murdered  man  was  a  Mexican,  and  his  slayers  were 
Mexicans  too.  The  trouble  originated  at  Las  Vegas, 
where  the  privates  had  been  bound  and  gagged,  by  order 
of  the  corporal,  for  creating  a  disturbance  at  a  fandango 
the  evening  before. 

The  name  of  the  corporal  was  Juan  Torres,  and  he  came 
down  to  Uncle  Dick's  one  evening  while  the  command 
was  encamped  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  accompanied 
by  the  three  privates,  who  had  already  plotted  to  kill  him, 
though  he  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of.it. 

Uncle  Dick,  in  telling  the  story,  said:  "They  left  at 
an  early  hour,  going  in  an  opposite  direction  from  their 
camp,  and  I  closed  my  doors  soon  after,  for  the  night. 
They  had  not  been  gone  more  than  half  an  hour,  when  I 
heard  them  talking  not  far  from  my  house,  and  a  few 
seconds  later  I  heard  the  half-suppressed  cry  of  a  man  who 
has  received  his  death-blow. 

"  I  had  gone  to  bed,  and  lay  for  a  minute  or  two  think- 
ing whether  I  should  get  up  and  go  to  the  rescue  or 
insure  my  own  safety  b}r  remaining  where  I   was. 

"  A  little  reflection  convinced  me  that  the  murderers 
were  undoubtedly  watching  my  house,  to  prevent  any 
interference  with  the  carrying  out  of  their  plot,  and  that 
if  I  ventured  out  I  should  only  endanger  my  own  life, 
while  there  was  scarcely  a  possibility  of  my  being  able  to 
save  the  life  of  the  man  who  had  been  assailed. 

"  In  the  morning,  when  I  got  up,  I  found  the  dead  body 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  351 

of  the  corporal  stretched  across  Raton  Creek,  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  from  my  house. 

"  As  I  surmised,  he  had  heen  struck  with  a  heavy  club 
or  stone,  and  it  was  at  that  time  that  I  heard  his  cry. 
After  that  his  brains  bad  been  beaten  out,  and  the  body 
left  where  I  had  found  it. 

"I  at  once  notified  Captain  Haley  of  the  occurrence, 
and  identified  the  men  who  had  been  in  company  with 
the  corporal,  and  who  were  undoubtedly  his  murderers. 

"  They  were  taken  into  custody,  and  made  a  confession, 
in  which  they  stated  that  one  of  their  number  had  stood 
at  my  door  on  the  night  of  the  murder  to  shoot  me  if  I  had 
ventured  out  to  assist  the  corporal.  Two  of  the  scoun- 
drels were  hung  afterward  at  Las  Vegas,  and  the  third 
sent  to  prison  for  life." 

The  corporal  was  buried  near  where  the  soldiers  were 
encamped  at  the  time  of  the  tragedy,  and  it  is  his  lonely 
grave  which  frequently  attracts  the  attention  of  the  pas- 
sengers on  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  F6-  trains, 
just  before  the  Raton  tunnel  is  reached,  as  they  travel 
southward. 

In'  18(36-67  the  Indians  broke  out,  infesting  all  the 
most  prominent  points  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe"  Trail,  and 
watching  an  opportunity  to  rob  and  murder,  so  that  the 
government  freight  caravans  and  the  stages  had  to  be 
escorted  by  detachments  of  troops.  Fort  Larned  was  the 
western  limit  where  these  escorts  joined  the  outfits  going 
over  into  New  Mexico. 

There  were  other  dangers  attending  the  passage  of  the 
Trail  to  travellers  by  the  stage  besides  the  attacks  of  the 
savages.  These  were  the  so-called  road  agents  —  masked 
robbers  who  regarded  life  as  of  little  worth  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  nefarious  purposes.  Particularly  were 
they  common  after  the  mines  of  New  Mexico  began  to  be 
operated  by  Americans.     The  object  of  the  bandits  was 


352  THE    OLD    SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

generally  the  strong  box  of  the  express  company,  which 
contained  money  and  other  valuables.  They  did  not,  of 
course,  hesitate  to  take  what  ready  cash  and  jewelry  the 
passengers  might  happen  to  have  upon  their  persons,  and 
frequently  their  hauls  amounted  to  large  sums. 

When  the  coaches  began  to  travel  over  Uncle  Dick's 
toll-road,  his  house  was  made  a  station,  and  he  had  many 
stage  stories.      He  said:  — 

"Tavern-keepers  in  those  days  couldn't  choose  their 
guests,  and  we  entertained  them  just  as  they  came  along. 
The  knights  of  the  road  would  come  by  now  and  then, 
order  a  meal,  eat  it  hurriedly,  pay  for  it,  and  move  on  to 
where  they  had  arranged  to  hold  up  a  stage  that  night. 
Sometimes  they  did  not  wait  for  it  to  get  dark,  but  halted 
the  stage,  went  through  the  treasure  box  in  broad  daylight, 
and  then  ordered  the  driver  to  move  on  in  one  direction, 
while  they  went  off  in  another. 

"  One  of  the  most  daring  and  successful  stage  robberies 
that  I  remember  was  perpetrated  by  two  men,  when  the 
east-bound  coach  was  coming  up  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Raton  Mountains,  one  day  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon. 

"  On  the  morning  of  the  same  day,  a  little  after  sunrise, 
two  rather  genteel-looking  fellows,  mounted  on  fine  horses, 
rode  up  to  my  house  and  ordered  breakfast.  Being  informed 
that  breakfast  would  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes,  they  dis- 
mounted, hitched  their  horses  near  the  door,  and  came 
into  the  house. 

"  I  knew  then,  just  as  well  as  I  do  now,  they  were  rob- 
bers, but  I  had  no  warrant  for  their  arrest,  and  I  should 
have  hesitated  about  serving  it  if  I  had,  because  they 
looked  like  very  unpleasant  men  to  transact  that  kind  of 
business  with. 

"Each  of  them  had  four  pistols  sticking  in  his  belt  and 
a  repeating  rifle  strapped  on  to  his  saddle.  When  they 
dismounted,   they  left  their  rifles   with  the  horses,    but 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  353 

walked  into  the  house  and  sat  down  at  the  table,  without 
laying  aside  the  arsenal  which  they  carried  in  their  belts. 

"  They  had  little  to  say  while  eating,  but  were  courteous 
in  their  behaviour,  and  very  polite  to  the  waiters.  When 
they  had  finished  breakfast,  they  paid  their  bills,  and  rode 
leisurely  up  the  mountain. 

"  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  they  would  take  chances 
on  stopping  the  stage  in  daylight,  or  I  should  have  sent 
some  one  to  meet  the  incoming  coach,  which  I  knew  would 
be  along  shortly,  to  warn  the  driver  and  passengers  to  be 
on  the  lookout  for  robbers. 

"  It  turned  out,  however,  that  a  daylight  robbery  was 
just  what  they  had  in  mind,  and  they  made  a  success  of  it. 

"About  halfway  down  the  New  Mexico  side  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  caSon  is  very  narrow,  and  was  then 
heavily  wooded  on  either  side,  the  robbers  stopped  and 
waited  for  the  coach.  It  came  lumbering  along  by  and 
by,  neither  the  driver  nor  the  passengers  dreaming  of  a 
hold-up. 

"  The  first  intimation  they  had  of  such  a  thing  was  when 
they  saw  two  men  step  into  the  road,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  stage,  each  of  them  holding  two  cocked  revolvers,  one 
of  which  was  brought  to  bear  on  the  passengers  and  the 
other  on  the  driver,  who  were  politely  but  very  positively 
told  that  they  must  throw  up  their  hands  without  any  un- 
necessary delay,  and  the  stage  came  to  a  standstill. 

"There  were  four  passengers  in  the  coach,  all  men,  but 
their  hands  went  up  at  the  same  instant  that  the  driver 
dropped  his  reins  and  struck  an  attitude  that  suited  the 
robbers. 

"  Then,  while  one  of  the  men  stood  guard,  the  other 
stepped  up  to  the  stage  and  ordered  the  treasure  box 
thrown  off.  This  demand  was  complied  with,  and  the  box 
was  broken  and  rifled  of  its  contents,  which  fortunately 
were  not  of  very  great  value. 

2   A 


354  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

"The  passengers  were  compelled  to  hand  out  their 
watches  and  other  jewelry,  as  well  as  what  money  they 
had  in  their  pockets,  and  then  the  driver  was  directed  to 
move  up  the  road.  In  a  minute  after  this  the  robbers 
had  disappeared  with  their  booty,  and  that  was  the  last 
seen  of  them  by  that  particular  coach-load  of  passengers. 

"  The  men  who  planned  and  executed  that  robbery  were 
two  cool,  level-headed,  and  daring  scoundrels,  known  as 
'Chuckle-luck'  and  'Magpie.'  They  were  killed  soon 
after  this  occurrence,  by  a  member  of  their  own  band, 
whose  name  was  Seward.  A  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars 
had  been  offered  for  their  capture,  and  this  tempted 
Seward  to  kill  them,  one  night  when  they  were  asleep 
in  camp. 

"  He  then  secured  a  wagon,  into  which  he  loaded  the 
dead  robbers,  and  hauled  them  to  Cimarron  City,  where 
he  turned  them  over  to  the  authorities  and  received  his 
reward." 

Among  the  Arapahoes  Wooton  was  called  "Cut  Hand," 
from  the  fact  that  he  had  lost  two  ringers  on  his  left 
hand  by  an  accident  in  his  childhood.  The  tribe  had  the 
utmost  veneration  for  the  old  trapper,  and  he  was  perfectly 
safe  at  any  time  in  their  villages  or  camps ;  it  had  been 
the  request  of  a  dying  chief,  who  was  once  greatly  favoured 
by  Wooton,  that  his  warriors  should  never  injure  him 
although  the  nation  might  be  at  war  with  all  the  rest  of 
the  whites  in  the  world. 

Uncle  Dick  died  a  few  seasons  ago,  at  the  age  of  nearly 
ninety.  He  was  blind  for  some  time,  but  a  surgical  opera- 
tion partly  restored  his  sight,  which  made  the  old  man 
happy,  because  he  could  look  again  upon  the  beautiful 
scenery  surrounding  his  mountain  home,  really  the  grand- 
est in  the  entire  Raton  Range.  The  Atchison,  Topeka,  and 
Santa  F4  Railroad  had  one  of  its  freight  locomotives 
named  "  Uncle  Dick,"  in  honour  of  the  veteran  mountain- 


UNCLE' DICK    WOOTON  355 

eer,  past  whose  house  it  hauled  the  heavy-laden  trains  up 
the  steep  grade  crossing  into  the  valley  beyond.  At  the 
time  of  its  baptism,  now  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  ago,  it 
was  the  largest  freight  engine  in  the  world. 

Old  Bill  Williams  was  another  character  of  the  early 
days  of  the  Trail,  and  was  called  so  when  Carson,  Uncle 
Dick  Wooton,  and  Maxwell  were  comparatively  young 
in  the  mountains.  He  was,  at  the  time  of  their  advent 
in  the  remote  West,  one  of  the  best  known  men  there, 
and  had  been  famous  for  years  as  a  hunter  and  trapper. 
Williams  was  better  acquainted  with  every  pass  in  the 
Rockies  than  any  other  man  of  his  time,  and  only  sur- 
passed by  Jim  Bridger  later.  He  was  with  General  Fre- 
mont on  his  exploring  expedition  across  the  continent; 
but  the  statement  of  the  old  trappers,  and  that  of  General 
Fremont,  in  relation  to  his  services  then,  differ  widely. 
Fremont  admits  Williams'  knowledge  of  the  country  over 
which  he  had  wandered  to  have  been  very  extensive,  but 
when  put  to  the  test  on  the  expedition,  he  came  very  near 
sacrificing  the  lives  of  all.  This  was  probably  owing  to 
Williams'  failing  intellect,  for  when  he  joined  the  great 
explorer  he  was  past  the  meridian  of  life.  Now  the  old 
mountaineers  contend  that  if  Fremont  had  profited  by  the 
old  man's  advice,  he  would  never  have  run  into  the  death- 
trap which  cost  him  three  men,  and  in  which  he  lost  all 
his  valuable  papers,  his  instruments,  and  the  animals  which 
he  and  his  party  were  riding.  The  expedition  had  fol- 
lowed the  Arkansas  River  to  its  source,  and  the  general 
had  selected  a  route  which  he  desired  to  pursue  in  crossing 
the  mountains.  It  was  winter,  and  Williams  explained  to 
him  that  it  was  perfectly  impracticable  to  get  over  at  that 
season.  The  general,  however,  ignoring  the  statement, 
listened  to  another  of  his  party,  a  man  who  had  no  such 
experience  but  said  that  he  could  pilot  the  expedition. 
Before  they  had  fairly  started,  they  were  caught  in  one 


356  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

of  the  most  terrible  snowstorms  the  region  had  ever  wi£ 
nessed,  in  which  all  their  horses  and  mules  were  literally 
frozen  to  death.  Then,  when  it  was  too  late,  they  turned 
back,  abandoning  their  instruments,  and  able  only  to  carry 
along  a  very  limited  stock  of  food.  The  storm  continued 
to  rage,  so  that  even  Williams  failed  to  prevent  them  from 
getting  lost,  and  they  wandered  about  aimlessly  for  many 
days  before  they  luckily  arrived  at  Taos,  suffering  seri- 
ously from  exhaustion  and  hunger.  Three  of  the  men 
were  frozen  to  death  on  the  return  trip,  and  the  remaining 
fifteen  were  little  better  than  dead  when  Uncle  Dick 
Wooton  happened  to  run  across  them  and  piloted  them 
into  the  village.  It  was  immediately  after  this  disaster 
that  the  three  most  noted  men  in  the  mountains  —  Carson, 
Maxwell,  and  Dick  Owens — became  the  guides  of  the 
pathfinder,  with  whom  he  had  no  trouble,  and  to  whom  he 
owed  more  of  his  success  than  history  has  given  them 
credit  for. 

At  one  period  of  his  eventful  career,  while  he  lived  in 
Missouri,  before  he  wandered  to  the  mountains,  Old  Bill 
Williams  was  a  Methodist  preacher;  of  which  fact  lie 
boasted  frequently  while  he  trapped  and  hunted  with 
other  pioneers.  Whenever  he  related  that  portion  of 
his  early  life,  he  declared  that  he  "  was  so  well  known  in 
his  circuit,  that  the  chickens  recognized  him  as  he  came 
riding  by  the  scattered  farmhouses,  and  the  old  roosters 
would  crow  '  Here  comes  Parson  Williams !  One  of  us 
must  be  made  ready  for  dinner.'  " 

Upon  leaving  the  States,  he  travelled  very  extensively 
among  the  various  tribes  of  Indians  who  roamed  over  the 
great  plains  and  in  the  mountains.  When  sojourning  with 
a  certain  band,  he  would  invariably  adopt  their  manners 
and  customs.  Whenever  he  grew  tired  of  that  nation,  he 
would  seek  another  and  live  as  they  lived.  He  had  been 
so  long  among  the  savages  that  he  looked  and  talked  like 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  357 

one,  and  had  imbibed  many  of  their  strange  notions  and 
curious  superstitions. 

To  the  missionaries  he  was  very  useful.  He  possessed 
the  faculty  of  easily  acquiring  languages  that  other  white 
men  failed  to  learn,  and  could  readily  translate  the  Bible 
into  several  Indian  dialects.  His  own  conduct,  however, 
was  in  strange  contrast  with  the  precepts  of  the  Holy 
Book  with  which  he  was  so  familiar. 

To  the  native  Mexicans  he  was  a  holy  terror  and  an 
unsolvable  riddle.  They  thought  him  jnossessed  of  an 
evil  spirit.  He  at  one  time  took  up  his  residence  among 
them  and  commenced  to  trade.  Shortly  after  he  had  estab- 
lished himself  and  gathered  in  a  stock  of  goods,  he  became 
involved  in  a  dispute  with  some  of  his  customers  in  rela- 
tion to  his  prices.  Upon  this  he  apparently  took  an  intense 
dislike  to  the  people  whom  he  had  begun  to  traffic  with, 
and  in  his  disgust  tossed  his  whole  mass  of  goods  into 
the  street,  and,  taking  up  his  rifle,  left  at  once  for  the 
mountains. 

Among  the  many  wild  ideas  he  had  imbibed  from  his 
long  association  with  the  Indians,  was  faith  in  their 
belief  in  the  transmigration  of  souls.  He  used  so  to 
worry  his  brain  for  hours  cogitating  upon  this  intricate 
problem  concerning  a  future  state,  that  he  actually  pre- 
tended to  know  exactly  the  animal  whose  place  he  was 
destined  to  fill  in  the  world  after  he  had  shaken  off  this 
mortal  human  coil. 

Uncle  Dick  Wooton  told  how  once,  when  he,  Old  Bill 
Williams,  and  many  other  trappers,  were  lying  around  the 
camp-fire  one  night,  the  strange  fellow,  in  a  preaching 
style  of  delivery,  related  to  them  all  how  he  was  to  be 
changed  into  a  buck  elk  and  intended  to  make  his  pasture 
in  the  very  region  where  they  then  were.  He  described 
certain  peculiarities  which  would  distinguish  him  from 
the  common  run  of  elk,  and  was  very  careful  to  caution 


358  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

all  those  present  never  to  shoot  such  an  animal,  should 
they  ever  run  across  him. 

Williams  was  regarded  as  a  warm-hearted,  brave,  and 
generous  man.  He  was  at  last  killed  by  the  Indians, 
while  trading  with  them,  but  has  left  his  name  to  many 
mountain  peaks,  rivers,  and  passes  discovered  by  him. 

Tom  Tobin,  one  of  the  last  of  the  famous  trappers, 
hunters,  and  Indian  fighters  to  cross  the  dark  river,  flour- 
ished in  the  early  days,  when  the  Rocky  Mountains  were 
a  veritable  terra  incognita  to  nearly  all  excepting  the  hardy 
employees  of  the  several  fur  companies  and  the  limited 
number  of  United  States  troops  stationed  in  their  remote 
wilds. 

Tom  was  an  Irishman,  quick-tempered,  and  a  dead  shot 
with  either  rifle,  revolver,  or  the  formidable  bowie-knife. 
He  would  fight  at  the  drop  of  the  hat,  but  no  man  ever 
went  away  from  his  cabin  hungry,  if  he  had  a  crust  to 
divide;  or  penniless,  if  there  was  anything  remaining  in 
his  purse. 

He,  like  Carson,  was  rather  under  the  average  stature, 
red-faced,  and  lacking  much  of  being  an  Adonis,  but 
whole-souled,  and  as  quick  in  his  movements  as  an  ante- 
lope. 

Tobin  played  an  important  role  in  avenging  the  death 
of  the  Americans  killed  in  the  Taos  massacre,  at  the  storm- 
ing of  the  Indian  pueblo,  but  his  greatest  achievement 
was  the  ending  of  the  noted  bandit  Espinosa's  life,  who, 
at  the  height  of  his  career  of  blood,  was  the  terror  of  the 
whole  mountain  region. 

At  the  time  of  the  acquisition  of  New  Mexico  by  the 
United  States,  Espinosa,  who  was  a  Mexican,  owning 
vast  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep,  resided  upon  his  ancestral 
hacienda  in  a  sort  of  barbaric  luxury,  with  a  host  of  semi- 
serfs,  known  as  Peons,  to  do  his  bidding,  as  did  the  other 
"  Muy  Ricos,"  the  "  Dons,"  so  called,  of  his  class  of  natives. 


UNCLE    DICK   WOOTON  359 

These  self-styled  aristocrats  of  the  wild  country  all  boasted 
of  their  Castilian  blue  blood,  claiming  descent  from  the 
nobles  of  Cortez'  army,  but  the  fact  is,  however,  with  rare 
exceptions,  that  their  male  ancestors,  the  rank  and  file 
of  that  army,  intermarried  with  the  Aztec  women,  and 
they  were  really  only  a  mixture  of  Indian  and  Spanish. 

It  so  happened  that  Espinosa  met  an  adventurous 
American,  who,  with  hundreds  of  others,  had  been  at- 
tached to  the  "Army  of  Occupation"  in  the  Mexican 
War,  or  had  emigrated  from  the  States  to  seek  their  fort- 
unes in  the  newly  acquired  and  much  over-rated  territory. 

The  Mexican  Don  and  the  American  became  fast  friends, 
the  latter  making  his  home  with  his  newly  found  acquaint- 
ance at  the  beautiful  ranch  in  the  mountains,  where  they 
played  the  role  of  a  modern  Damon  and  Pythias. 

Now  with  Don  Espinosa  lived  his  sister,  a  dark-eyed, 
bewitchingly  beautiful  girl  about  seventeen  3'ears  old, 
with  whom  the  susceptible  American  fell  deeply  in  love, 
and  his  affection  was  reciprocated  by  the  maiden,  with  a 
fervour  of  which  only  the  women  of  the  race  from  which 
she  sprang  are  capable. 

The  fascinating  American  had  brought  with  him  from 
his  home  in  one  of  the  New  England  States  a  large 
amount  of  money,  for  his  parents  were  rich,  and  spared 
no  indulgence  to  their  only  son.  He  very  soon  unwisely 
made  Espinosa  his  confidant,  and  told  him  of  the  wealth 
he  possessed. 

One  night  after  the  American  had  retired  to  his  cham- 
ber, adjoining  that  of  his  host,  he  was  surprised,  shortly 
after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  by  discovering  a  man  standing 
over  him,  whose  hand  had  already  grasped  the  buckskin 
bag  under  his  pillow  which  contained  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  his  gold  and  silver.  He  sprang  from  his  couch 
and  fired  his  pistol  at  random  in  the  darkness  at  the 
would-be  robber. 


360  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Espinosa,  for  it  was  he,  was  wounded  slightly,  and, 
being  either  enraged  or  frightened,  he  stabbed  with  his 
keen-pointed  stiletto,  which  all  Mexicans  then  carried, 
the  3'oung  man  whom  he  had  invited  to  become  his  guest, 
and  the  blade  entered  the  American's  heart,  killing  him 
instantly. 

The  report  of  the  pistol-shot  awakened  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  household,  who  came  rushing  into  the  room 
just  as  the  victim  was  breathing  his  last.  Among  them 
was  the  sister  of  the  murderer,  who,  throwing  herself  on 
the  body  of  her  dead  lover,  poured  forth  the  most  bitter 
curses  upon  her  brother. 

Espinosa,  realizing  the  terrible  position  in  which  he 
had  placed  himself,  then  and  there  determined  to  become 
an  outlaw,  as  he  could  frame  no  excuse  for  his  wicked 
deed.  He  therefore  hid  himself  at  once  in  the  moun- 
tains, carrying  with  him,  of  course,  the  sack  containing 
the  murdered  American's  money. 

Some  time  necessarily  passed  before  he  could  get  together 
a  sufficient  number  of  cut-throats  and  renegades  from  jus- 
tice to  enable  him  wholly  to  defy  the  authorities ;  but  at 
last  he  succeeded  in  rallying  a  strong  force  to  his  stand- 
ard of  blood,  and  became  the  terror  of  the  whole  region, 
equalling  in  boldness  and  audacity  the  terrible  Joaquin, 
of  California  notoriety  in  after  years. 

His  headquarters  were  in  the  almost  impregnable  fast- 
nesses of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  Mountains,  from  which  he 
made  his  invariably  successful  raids  into  the  rich  valleys 
below.  There  was  nothing  too  bloody  for  him  to  shrink 
from;  he  robbed  indiscriminately  the  overland  coaches  to 
Santa  Fe\  the  freight  caravans  of  the  traders  and  govern- 
ment, the  ranches  of  the  Mexicans,  or  stole  from  the  poorer 
classes,  without  any  compunction.  He  ran  off  horses, 
cattle,  sheep, —  in  fact,  anything  that  he  could  utilize. 
If  murder  was  necessary  to  the  completion  of  his  work, 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  361 

he  never  for  a  moment  hesitated.  Kidnapping,  too,  was  a 
favourite  pastime ;  but  he  rarely  carried  away  to  his  ren- 
dezvous any  other  than  the  most  beautiful  of  the  New 
Mexican  young  girls,  whom  he  held  in  his  mountain  den 
until  they  were  ransomed,  or  subjected  to  a  fate  more 
terrible. 

In  186-1  the  bandit,  after  nearly  ten  years  of  unpar- 
alleled outlawry,  was  killed  by  Tobin.  Tom  had  been 
on  his  trail  for  some  time,  and  at  last  tracked  him  to  a 
temporary  camp  in  the  foot-hills,  which  he  accidentally 
discovered  in  a  grove  of  cottonwoods,  by  the  smoke 
of  the  little  camp-fire  as  it  curled  in  light  wreaths  above 
the  trees. 

Tobin  knew  that  at  the  time  there  was  but  one  of  Espi- 
nosa's  followers  with  him,  as  he  had  watched  them  both 
for  some  days,  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  get  the  drop 
on  them.  To  capture  the  pair  of  outlaws  alive  never 
entered  his  thoughts ;  he  was  as  cautious  as  brave,  and  to 
get  them  dead  was  much  safer  and  easier ;  so  he  crept  up 
to  the  grove  on  his  belly,  Indian  fashion,  and  lying  behind 
the  cover  of  a  friendly  log,  waited  until  the  noted  desperado 
stood  up,  when  he  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  never-erring 
rifle,  and  Espinosa  fell  dead.  A  second  shot  quickly 
disposed  of  his  companion,  and  the  old  trapper's  mission 
was  accomplished. 

To  be  able  to  claim  the  reward  offered  by  the  authorities, 
Tom  had  to  prove,  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt,  that 
those  whom  he  had  killed  were  the  dreaded  bandit  and 
one  of  his  gang.  He  thought  it  best  to  cut  off  their 
heads,  which  he  deliberately  did,  and  packing  them  on 
his  mule  in  a  gunny-sack,  he  brought  them  into  old  Fort 
Massachusetts,  afterward  Fort  Garland,  where  they  were 
speedily  recognized;  but  whether  Tom  ever  received  the 
reward,  I  have  my  doubts,  as  he  never  claimed  that  he 
did.     Tobin  died  only  a  short  time  ago,  gray,  grizzled, 


362  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

and  venerable,  his  memory  respected  by  all  who  had  ever 
met  him. 

James  Hobbs,  among  all  the  men  of  whom  I  have 
presented  a  hurried  sketch,  had  perhaps  a  more  varied 
experience  than  any  of  his  colleagues.  During  his 
long  life  on  the  frontier,  he  was  in  turn  a  prisoner  among 
the  savages,  and  held  for  years  by  them ;  an  excellent  sol- 
dier in  the  war  with  Mexico;  an  efficient  officer  in  the 
revolt  against  Maximilian,  when  the  attempt  of  Napoleon 
to  establish  an  empire  on  this  continent,  with  that  unfor- 
tunate prince  at  its  head,  was  defeated;  an  Indian  fighter; 
a  miner;  a  trapper;  a  trader,  and  a  hunter. 

Hobbs  was  born  in  the  Shawnee  nation,  on  the  Big 
Blue,  about  twenty-three  miles  from  Independence,  Mis- 
souri. His  early  childhood  was  entrusted  to  one  of  his 
father's  slaves.  Reared  on  the  eastern  limit  of  the  border, 
he  very  soon  became  familiar  with  the  use  of  the  rifle  and 
shot-gun ;  in  fact,  he  was  the  principal  provider  of  all  the 
meat  which  the  family  consumed. 

In  1835,  when  only  sixteen,  he  joined  a  fur-trading 
expedition  under  Charles  Bent,  destined  for  the  fort  on 
the  Arkansas  River  built  by  him  and  his  brothers. 

They  arrived  at  the  crossing  of  the  Santa  Fe"  Trail  over 
Pawnee  Fork  without  special  adventure,  but  there  they 
had  the  usual  tussle  with  the  savages,  and  Hobbs  killed  his 
first  Indian.  Two  of  the  traders  were  pierced  with  arrows, 
but  not  seriously  hurt,  and  the  Pawnees  — the  tribe  which 
had  attacked  the  outfit  —  were  driven  away  discomfited, 
not  having  been  successful  in  stampeding  a  single  animal. 

When  the  party  reached  the  Caches,  on  the  Upper 
Arkansas,  a  smoke  rising  on  the  distant  horizon,  beyond 
the  sand  hills  south  of  the  river,  made  them  proceed  cau- 
tiously ;  for  to  the  old  plainsmen,  that  far-off  wreath 
indicated  either  the  presence  of  the  savages,  or  a  signal  to 
others  at  a  greater  distance  of  the  approach  of  the  trappers. 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  363 

The  next  morning,  nothing  having  occurred  to  delay 
the  march,  buffalo  began  to  appear,  and  Hobbs  killed  three 
of  them.  A  cow,  which  he  bad  wounded,  ran  across  the 
Trail  in  front  of  the  train,  and  Hobbs  dashed  after  her, 
wounding  her  with  his  pistol,  and  then  she  started  to 
swim  the  river.  Hobbs,  mad  at  the  jeers  which  greeted 
him  from  the  men  at  his  missing  the  animal,  started  for 
the  last  wagon,  in  which  was  his  rifle,  determined  to  kill 
the  brute  that  had  enraged  him.  As  he  was  riding  along 
rapidly,  Bent  cried  out  to  him,  — 

"Don't  try  to  follow  that  cow;  she  is  going  straight 
for  that  smoke,  and  it  means  Injuns,  and  no  good  in  'em 
either." 

"But  I'll  get  her,"  answered  Hobbs,  and  he  called  to 
his  closest  comrade,  John  Baptiste,  a  bo}*-  of  about  his  own 
age,  to  go  and  get  his  pack-mule  and  come  along.  "All 
right,"  responded  John;  and  together  the  two  inexperi- 
enced youngsters  crossed  the  river  against  the  protests  of 
the  veteran  leader  of  the  party. 

After  a  chase  of  about  three  miles,  the  boys  came  up 
with  the  cow,  but  she  turned  and  showed  fight.  Finally 
Hobbs,  by  riding  around  her,  got  in  a  good  shot,  which 
killed  her.  Jumping  off  their  animals,  both  boys  busied 
themselves  in  cutting  out  the  choice  jjieces  for  their  sup- 
per, packed  them  on  the  mule,  and  started  back  for  the 
train.  But  it  had  suddenly  become  very  dark,  and  they 
were  in  doubt  as  to  the  direction  of  the  Trail. 

Soon  night  came  on  so  rapidly  that  neither  could  they 
see  their  own  tracks  by  which  they  had  come,  nor  the  thin 
fringe  of  cottonwoods  that  lined  the  bank  of  the  stream. 
Then  they  disagreed  as  to  which  was  the  right  way. 
John  succeeded  in  persuading  Hobbs  that  he  was  correct, 
and  the  latter  gave  in,  very  much  against  his  own  belief 
on  the  subject. 

They  travelled  all  night,  and  when  morning  came,  were 


364  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

bewilderingly  lost.  Then  Hobbs  resolved  to  retrace  the 
tracks  by  which,  now  that  the  sun  was  up,  he  saw  that 
they  had  been  going  south,  right  away  from  the  Arkansas. 
Suddenly  an  immense  herd  of  buffalo,  containing  at  least 
two  thousand,  dashed  by  the  boys,  filling  the  air  with  the 
dust  raised  by  their  clattering  hoofs,  and  right  behind  them 
rode  a  hundred  Indians,  shooting  at  the  stampeded  animals 
with  their  arrows. 

"  Get  into  that  ravine  !  "  shouted  Hobbs  to  his  compan- 
ion.    "  Throw  away  that  meat,  and  run  for  your  life  !  " 

It  was  too  late ;  just  as  they  arrived  at  the  brink  of  the 
hollow,  they  looked  back,  and  close  behind  them  were  a 
dozen  Comanches. 

The  savages  rode  up,  and  one  of  the  party  said  in  very 
good  English,  "  How  d'  do?" 

"  How  d'  do  ? "  Hobbs  replied,  thinking  it  would  be 
better  to  be  as  polite  as  the  Indian,  though  the  state 
of  the  latter's  health  just  then  was  a  matter  of  small 
concern. 

"Texas?"  inquired  the  Indian.  The  Comanches  had 
good  reasons  to  hate  the  citizens  of  that  country,  and  it 
was  a  lucky  thing  for  Hobbs  that  he  had  heard  of  their 
prejudice  from  the  trappers,  and  possessed  presence  of  mind 
to  remember  it.  He  replied  promptly :  "  No,  friendly ; 
going  to  establish  a  trading-post  for  the  Comanches." 

"  Friendly  ?  Better  go  with  us,  though.  Got  any 
tobacco?  " 

Hobbs  had  some  of  the  desired  article,  and  he  was  not 
long  in  handing  it  over  to  his  newly  found  friend. 

Both  of  the  boys  were  escorted  to  the  temporary  camp 
of  the  savages,  but  the  original  number  of  their  captors 
was  increased  to  over  a  thousand  before  they  arrived  there. 
They  were  supplied  with  some  dried  buffalo-meat,  and 
then  taken  to  the  lodge  of  Old  Wolf,  the  head  chief  of 
the  tribe. 


UNCLE    DICK   WOOTON  365 

A  council  was  called  immediately  to  consider  what  dis- 
position should  be  made  of  them,  but  nothing  was  decided 
upon,  and  the  assembly  of  warriors  adjourned  until  morn- 
ing. Hobbs  told  me  that  it  was  because  Old  Wolf  had 
imbibed  too  much  brandy,  a  bottle  of  which  Baptiste  had 
brought  with  him  from  the  train,  and  which  the  thirsty 
warrior  saw  suspended  from  his  saddle-bow  as  they  rode 
up  to  the  chief's  lodge ;  the  aged  rascal  got  beastly  drunk. 

About  noon  of  the  next  day,  after  the  dispersion  of  the 
council,  the  boys  were  informed  that  if  they  were  not 
Texans,  would  behave  themselves,  and  not  attempt  to  run 
away,  they  might  stay  with  the  Indians,  who  would  not 
kill  them;  but  a  string  of  dried  scalps  was  pointed  out, 
hanging  on  a  lodge  pole,  of  some  Mexicans  whom  they 
had  captured  and  put  to  herding  their  ponies,  and  who 
had  tried  to  get  awa}'.  They  succeeded  in  making  a  few 
miles ;  the  Indians  cbased  them,  after  deciding  in  council, 
that,  if  caught,  only  their  scalps  were  to  be  brought  back. 
The  moral  of  this  was  that  the  same  fate  awaited  the  boys 
if  they  followed  the  example  of  the  foolish  Mexicans. 

Hobbs  had  excellent  sense  and  judgment,  and  he  knew 
that  it  would  be  the  height  of  folly  for  him  and  Baptiste, 
mere  boys,  to  try  and  reach  either  Bent's  Fort  or  the 
Missouri  River,  not  having  the  slightest  knowledge  of 
where  they  were  situated. 

Hobbs  grew  to  be  a  great  favourite  with  the  Comanches  ; 
was  given  the  daughter  of  Old  Wolf  in  marriage,  became 
a  great  chief,  fought  man}^  hard  battles  with  his  savage 
companions,  and  at  last,  four  years  after,  was  redeemed  by 
Colonel  Bent,  who  paid  Old  Wolf  a  small  ransom  for 
him  at  the  Fort,  where  the  Indians  had  come  to  trade. 
Baptiste,  whom  the  Indians  never  took  a  great  fancy  to, 
because  he  did  not  develop  into  a  great  warrior,  was 
also  ransomed  by  Bent,  his  price  being  only  an  antiquated 
mule. 


.366  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TKAIL 

At  Bent's  Fort  Hobbs  went  out  trapping  under  the 
leadership  of  Kit  Carson,  and  they  became  lifelong  friends. 
In  a  short  time  Hobbs  earned  the  reputation  of  being  an 
excellent  mountaineer,  trapper,  and  as  an  Indian  fighter 
he  was  second  to  none,  his  education  among  the  Comanches 
having  trained  him  in  all  the  strategy  of  the  savages. 

After  going  through  the  Mexican  War  with  an  excellent 
record,  Hobbs  wandered  about  the  country,  now  engaged 
in  mining  in  old  Mexico,  then  fighting  the  Apaches  under 
the  orders  of  the  governor  of  Chihuahua,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  campaign  going  back  to  the  Pacific  coast,  where 
he  entered  into  new  pursuits.  Sometimes  he  was  rich, 
then  as  poor  as  one  can  imagine.  He  returned  to  old 
Mexico  in  time  to  become  an  active  partisan  in  the  revolt 
which  overthrew  the  short-lived  dynasty  of  Maximilian, 
and  was  present  at  the  execution  of  that  unfortunate 
prince.  Finally  he  retired  to  the  home  of  his  childhood 
in  the  States,  where  he  died  a  few  months  ago,  full  of 
years  and  honours. 

William  F.  Cody,  "  Buffalo  Bill,"  is  one  of  the  famous 
plainsmen,  of  later  days,  however,  than  Carson,  Bridger, 
John  Smith,  Maxwell,  and  others  whom  I  have  mentioned. 
The  mantle  of  Kit  Carson,  perhaps,  fits  more  perfectly  the 
shoulders  of  Cody  than  those  of  any  other  of  the  great 
frontiersman's  successors,  and  he  has  had  some  experiences 
that  surpassed  anything  which  fell  to  their  lot. 

He  was  born  in  Iowa,  in  1845,  and  when  barely  seven 
years  old  his  father  emigrated  to  Kansas,  then  far  remote 
from  civilization. 

Thii^-six  years  ago,  he  was  employed  as  guide  and 
scout  in  an  expedition  against  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches, 
and  his  line  of  duty  took  him  along  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  all 
one  summer  when  not  out  as  a  scout,  carrying  despatches 
between  Fort  Lyon  and  Fort  Larned,  the  most  important 
military  posts  on  the  great  highway  as  well  as  to  far-off 


I 


■    ■  ' 

tentei 

i 

.         ■ 
.     ■         ._;.■;  <   ■  !3M1 


; 


GOVERNMENT   SCOUTS—  MOONLIGHT 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  367 

Fort  Leavenworth  on  the  Missouri  River,  the  headquarters 
of  the  department.  Fort  Larned  was  the  general  rendez- 
vous of  all  the  scouts  on  the  Kansas  and  Colorado  plains, 
the  chief  of  whom  was  a  veteran  interpreter  and  guide, 
named  Dick  Curtis. 

When  Cody  first  reported  there  for  his  responsible  duty, 
a  large  camp  of  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches  was  established 
within  sight  of  the  fort,  whose  warriors  had  not  as  yet  put 
on  their  war-paint,  but  were  evidently  restless  and  dis- 
contented under  the  restraint  of  their  chiefs.  Soon  those 
leading  men,  Satanta,  Lone  Wolf,  Satank,  and  others  of 
lesser  note,  grew  rather  impudent  and  haughty  in  their 
deportment,  and  they  were  watched  witli  much  concern. 
The  post  was  garrisoned  by  only  two  companies  of  infantry 
and  one  of  cavalry. 

General  Hazen,  afterward  chief  of  the  signal  service  in 
Washington,  was  at  Fort  Larned  at  the  time,  endeavouring 
to  patch  up  a  peace  with  the  savages,  who  seemed  deter- 
mined to  break  out.  Cody  was  special  scout  to  the  gen- 
eral, and  one  morning  he  was  ordered  to  accompany  him 
as  far  as  Fort  Zarah,  on  the  Arkansas,  near  the  mouth  of 
Walnut  Creek,  in  what  is  now  Barton  County,  Kansas, 
the  general  intending  to  go  on  to  Fort  Harker,  on  the 
Smoky  Hill.  In  making  these  trips  of  inspection,  with 
incidental  collateral  duties,  the  general  usually  travelled 
in  an  ambulance,  but  on  this  journey  he  rode  in  a  six-mule 
army-wagon,  escorted  by  a  detachment  of  a  score  of  in- 
fantry. It  was  a  warm  August  day,  and  an  early  start 
was  made,  which  enabled  them  to  reach  Fort  Zarah,  over 
thirty  miles  distant,  by  noon.  After  dinner,  the  general 
proposed  to  go  on  to  Fort  Harker,  forty-one  miles  away, 
without  any  escort,  leaving  orders  for  Cody  to  return  to 
Fort  Larned  the  next  day,  with  the  soldiers.  But  Cody, 
ever  impatient  of  delay  when  there  was.  work  to  do,  noti- 
fied the  sergeant  in  charge  of  the  men  that  he  was  going 


368  THE   OLD   SANTA    FE  TRAIL 

back  that  very  afternoon.  I  tell  the  story  of  his  trip  as 
he  has  often  told  it  to  me,  and  as  he  has  written  it  in  his 
autobiography. 

"  I  accordingly  saddled  up  my  mule  and  set  out  for 
Fort  Larned.  I  proceeded  on  uninterruptedly  until  I  got 
about  halfway  between  the  two  posts,  when,  at  Pawnee 
Rock,  I  was  suddenly  jumped  by  about  forty  Indians,  who 
came  dashing  up  to  me,  extending  their  hands  and  sajdng, 
'  How  !  How  ! '  They  were  some  of  the  Indians  who 
had  been  hanging  around  Fort  Larned  in  the  morning.  I 
saw  they  had  on  their  war-paint,  and  were  evidently  now 
out  on  the  war-path.     ■ 

"  My  first  impulse  was  to  shake  hands  with  them,  as 
they  seemed  so  desirous  of  it.  I  accordingly  reached  out 
m}T  hand  to  one  of  them,  who  grasped  it  with  a  tight  grip, 
and  jerked  me  violently  forward;  then  pulled  my  mule  by 
the  bridle,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  completely  surrounded. 
Before  I  could  do  anything  at  all,  they  had  seized  my 
revolvers  from  the  holsters,  and  I  received  a  blow  on  the 
head  from  a  tomahawk  which  nearly  rendered  me  senseless. 
My  gun,  which  was  lying  across  the  saddle,  was  snatched 
from  its  place,  and  finally  the  Indian  who  had  hold  of  the 
bridle  started  off  toward  the  Arkansas  River,  leading  the 
mule,  which  was  being  lashed  by  the  other  Indians,  who 
were  following.  The  savages  were  all  singing,  yelling, 
and  whooping,  as  only  Indians  can  do,  when  they  are 
having  their  little  game  all  their  own  way.  While  look- 
ing toward  the  river,  I  saw  on  the  opposite  side  an  im- 
mense village  moving  along  the  bank,  and  then  I  became 
convinced  that  the  Indians  had  left  the  post  and  were 
now  starting  out  on  the  war-path.  My  captors  crossed 
the  stream  with  me,  and  as  we  waded  through  the  shallow 
water  they  continued  to  lash  the  mule  and  myself.  Finally 
they  brought  me  before  an  important-looking  body  of  Ind- 
ians, who  proved  to  be  the  chiefs  and  principal  warriors. 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  309 

I  soon  recognized  old  Satanta  among  them,  as  well  as 
others  whom  I  knew,  and  supposed  it  was  all  over 
with  me. 

"The  Indians  were  jabbering  away  so  rapidly  among 
themselves  that  I  could  not  understand  what  they  were 
saying.  Satanta  at  last  asked  me  where  I  had  been.  As 
good  luck  would  have  it,  a  happy  thought  struck  me.  I 
told  him  I  had  been  after  a  herd  of  cattle,  or  '  whoa-haws,' 
as  they  called  them.  It  so  happened  that  the  Indians  had 
been  out  of  meat  for  several  weeks,  as  the  large  herd  of 
cattle  which  had  been  promised  them  had  not  yet  arrived, 
although  they  expected  them. 

"  The  moment  I  mentioned  that  I  had  been  searching 
for  '  whoa-haws,'  old  Satanta  began  questioning  me  in  a 
very  eager  manner.  He  asked  me  where  the  cattle  were, 
and  I  replied  that  they  were  back  a  few  miles,  and  that  I 
had  been  sent  by  General  Hazen  to  inform  him  that  the 
cattle  were  coming,  and  that  they  were  intended  for  his 
people.  This  seemed  to  please  the  old  rascal,  who  also 
wanted  to  know  if  there  were  any  soldiers  with  the  herd, 
and  my  reply  was  that  there  were.  Thereupon  the  chiefs 
held  a  consultation,  and  presently  Satanta  asked  me  if 
General  Hazen  had  really  said  that  they  should  have  the 
cattle.  I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  added  that  I  had 
been  directed  to  bring  the  cattle  to  them.  I  followed  this 
up  with  a  very  dignified  inquiry,  asking  why  his  young 
men  had  treated  me  so.  The  old  wretch  intimated  that  it 
was  only  a  '  freak  of  the  boys ' ;  that  the  young  men  wanted 
to  see  if  I  was  brave ;  in  fact,  they  had  only  meant  to  test 
me,  and  the  whole  thing  was  a  joke. 

"  The  veteran  liar  was  now  beating  me  at  my  own  game 
of  lying,  but  I  was  very  glad,  as  it  was  in  my  favour.  I 
did  not  let  him  suspect  that  I  doubted  his  veracity,  but 
I  remarked  that  it  was  a  rough  way  to  treat  friends.  He 
immediately  ordered  his  young  men  to  give  back  my  arms, 

2  B 


370  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

and  scolded  them  for  what  they  had  done.  Of  course,  the 
sly  old  dog  was  now  playing  it  very  fine,  as  he  was  anxious 
to  get  possession  of  the  cattle,  with  which  he  believed 
there  was  a  '  heap '  of  soldiers  coming.  He  had  concluded 
it  was  not  best  to  fight  the  soldiers  if  he  could  get  the 
cattle  peaceably. 

"  Another  council  was  held  by  the  chiefs,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  old  Satanta  came  and  asked  me  if  I  would  go  to 
the  river  and  bring  the  cattle  down  to  the  opposite  side,  so 
that  they  could  get  them.  I  replied,  '  Of  course ;  that's 
my  instruction  from  General  Hazen.' 

"  Satanta  said  I  must  not  feel  angry  at  his  young  men, 
for  they  had  only  been  acting  in  fun.  He  then  inquired 
if  I  wished  any  of  his  men  to  accompany  me  to  the  cattle 
herd.  I  replied  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  go 
alone,  and  then  the  soldiers  could  keep  right  on  to  Fort 
Larned,  while  I  could  drive  the  herd  down  on  the  bottom. 
Then  wheeling  my  mule  around,  I  was  soon  recrossing 
the  river,  leaving  old  Satanta  in  the  firm  belief  that  I  had 
told  him  a  straight  story,  and  that  I  was  going  for  the 
cattle  which  existed  only  in  my  imagination. 

"  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  but  thought  that  if  I  could 
get  the  river  between  the  Indians  and  myself,  I  would 
have  a  good  three-quarters  of  a  mile  the  start  of  them,  and 
could  then  make  a  run  for  Fort  Larned,  as  my  mule  was  a 
good  one. 

"  Thus  far  my  cattle  story  had  panned  out  all  right ; 
but  just  as  I  reached  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  I 
looked  behind  me  and  saw  that  ten  or  fifteen  Indians,  who 
had  begun  to  suspect  something  crooked,  were  following 
me.  The  moment  that  my  mule  secured  a  good  foothold 
on  the  bank,  I  urged  him  into  a  gentle  lope  toward  the 
place  where,  according  to  my  statement,  the  cattle  were  to 
be  brought.  Upon  reaching  a  little  ridge  and  riding  down 
the  other  side  out  of  view,  I  turned  my  mule  and  headed 


UNCLE   DICK   WOOTON  371 

him   westward  for  Fort  Lamed.     I   let   him  out  for  all 

that  he  was  worth,  and  when  I  came  out  on  a  little  rise  of 
ground,  I  looked  back  and  saw  the  Indian  village  in  plain 
sight.  My  pursuers  were  now  on  the  ridge  which  I  had 
passed  over,  and  were  looking  for  me  in  every  direction. 

"  Presently  they  spied  me,  and  seeing  that  I  was  running 
away,  they  struck  out  in  swift  pursuit,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes it  became  painfully  evident  they  were  gaining  on  me. 
They  kept  up  the  chase  as  far  as  Ash  Creek,  six  miles  from 
Fort  Lamed.  I  still  led  them  half  a  mile,  as  their  horses 
had  not  gained  much  during  the  last  half  of  the  race.  My 
mule  seemed  to  have  gotten  his  second  wind,  and  as  I 
was  on  the  old  road,  I  pla}'ed  the  spurs  and  whip  on  him 
without  much  cessation  ;  the  Indians  likewise  urged  their 
steeds  to  the  utmost. 

"  Finally,  upon  reaching  the  dividing  ridge  between  Ash 
Creek  and  Pawnee  Fork,  I  saw  Fort  Lamed  only  four  miles 
away.  It  was  now  sundown,  and  I  heard  the  evening  gun. 
The  troops  of  the  small  garrison  little  dreamed  there  was 
a  man  flying  for  his  life  and  trying  to  reach  the  post. 
The  Indians  were  once  more  gaining  on  me,  and  when  1 
crossed  the  Pawnee  Fork  two  miles  from  the  post,  two  or 
three  of  them  were  only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  me. 
Just  as  I  gained  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream,  I  was 
overjoyed  to  see  some  soldiers  in  a  government  wagon 
only  a  short  distance  off.  I  yelled  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
and  riding  up  to  them,  told  them  that  the  Indians  were 
after  me.  v 

" '  Denver  Jim,'  a  well-known  scout,  asked  me  how  many 
there  were,  and  upon  my  informing  him  that  there  were 
about  a  dozen,  he  said :  '  Let's  drive  the  wagon  into  the 
trees,  and  we'll  lay  for  'em.'  The  team  was  hurriedly 
driven  among  the  trees  and  low  box-elder  bushes,  and 
there  secreted. 

"  We  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  the  Indians,  who 


372 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


came  dashing  up,  lashing  their  ponies,  which  were  panting 
and  blowing.  We  let  two  of  them  pass  by,  but  we  opened 
a  lively  fire  on  the  next  three  or  four,  killing  two  of  them 
at  the  first  crack.  The  others  following  discovered  that 
they  had  run  into  an  ambush,  and  whirling  off  into  the 
brush,  they  turned  and  ran  back  in  the  direction  whence 
they  had  come.  The  two  who  had  passed  by  heard  the 
firing  and  made  their  escape.  We  scalped  the  two  that 
we  had  killed,  and  appropriated  their  arms  and  equip- 
ments ;  then,  catching  their  ponies,  we  made  our  way  into 
the  Post." 


/fa/can- 
florxmdn- 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


MAXWELL'S    RANCH    ON    THE    OLD    SANTA   FB   TRAIL A   PICTUR- 
ESQUE   REGION MAXWELL    A    TRAPPER    AND    HUNTER    WITH 

THE     AMERICAN      EUR    COMPANY  —  LIFELONG      COMRADE      OF 

KIT    CARSON SOURCES    OF    MAXWELL'S    WEALTH FOND    OF 

HORSE-RACING A     DISASTROUS     FOURTH-OF-JULY     CELEBRA- 
TION  ANECDOTE   OF   KIT   CARSON DISCOVERY    OF   GOLD  ON 

THE    RANCH THE    BIG    DITCH ISSUING    BEEF    TO    THE   UTE 

INDIANS CAMPING    OUT    WITH    MAXWELL    AND    CARSON A 

STORY    OF    THE    OLD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL 


/uaenS/laxue//- 


NE  of  the  most  interest- 
ing and  picturesque  re- 
gions of  all  New  Mexico 
is  the  immense  tract  of 
nearly  two  million  acres 
known  as  Maxwell's 
Ranch,  through  which 
the  Old  Trail  ran,  and  the  title 
to  which  was  some  years  since 
determined  by  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States  in 
favour  of  an  alien  company.1 
Dead  long  ago,  Maxwell  belonged 
a  generation  and  a  class  almost 
completely  extinct,  and  the  like  of  which 
will,  in  all  probability,  never  b.e  seen  again  ;  for  there  is 
no  more  frontier  to  develop  them. 

1  The  ranch  is  now  in  charge   of  Mr.  Harry  Whigham,  an  English 
gentleman,  who  keeps  up  the  old  hospitality  of  the  famous  place. 

373 


374  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Several  years  prior  to  the  acquisition  of  the  territory 
by  the  United  States,  the  immense  tract  comprised  in 
the  geographical  limits  of  the  ranch  was  granted  to 
Carlos  Beaubien  and  Guadalupe  Miranda,  both  citizens  of 
the  province  of  New  Mexico,  and  agents  of  the  American 
Fur  Company.  Attached  to  the  company  as  an  employer, 
a  trapper,  and  hunter,  was  Lucien  B.  Maxwell,  an  Illi- 
noisan  by  birth,  who  married  a  daughter  of  Beaubien. 
After  the  death  of  the  latter  Maxwell  purchased  all  the 
interest  of  the  joint  proprietor,  Miranda,  and  that  of  the 
heirs  of  Beaubien,  thus  at  once  becoming  the  largest  land- 
owner in  the  United  States. 

At  the  zenith  of  his  influence  and  wealth,  during  the 
War  of  the  Rebellion,  when  New  Mexico  was  isolated 
and  almost  independent  of  care  or  thought  by  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington,  he  lived  in  a  sort  of  barbaric  splen- 
dour, akin  to  that  of  the  nobles  of  England  at  the  time 
of  the  Norman  conquest. 

The  thousands  of  arable  acres  comprised  in  the  many 
fertile  valleys  of  his  immense  estate  were  farmed  in  a 
primitive,  feudal  sort  of  way,  by  native  Mexicans  princi- 
pally, under  the  system  of  peonage  then  existing  in  the 
Territory.  He  employed  about  five  hundred  men,  and 
they  were  as  much  his  thralls  as  were  Gurth  and  Wamba 
of  Cedric  of  Rotherwood,  only  they  wore  no  engraved 
collars  around  their  necks  bearing  their  names  and  that 
of  their  master.  Maxwell  was  not  a  hard  governor,  and 
his  people  really  loved  him,  as  he  was  ever  their  fiiend 
and  adviser. 

His  house  was  a  palace  when  coirqmred  with  the  pre- 
vailing style  of  architecture  in  that  country,  and  cost  an 
immense  sum  of  money.  It  was  large  and  roomy,  purely 
American  in  its  construction,  but  the  manner  of  conduct- 
ing it  was  strictly  Mexican,  varying  between  the  customs 
of  the  higher  and  lower  classes  of  that  curious  people. 


MAXWELL'S   RANCH  375 

Some  of  its  apartments  were  elaborately  furnished, 
others  devoid  of  everything  except  a  table  for  card-play- 
ing and  a-  game's  complement  of  chairs.  The  principal 
room,  an  extended  rectangular  affair,  which  might  prop- 
erly have  been  termed  the  Baronial  Hall,  was  almost  bare 
except  for  a  few  chairs,  a  couple  of  tables,  and  an  anti- 
quated bureau.  There  Maxwell  received  his  friends, 
transacted  business  with  his  vassals,  and  held  high  carnival 
at  times. 

I  have  slept  on  its  hardwood  floor,  rolled  up  in  my 
blanket,  with  the  mighty  men  of  the  Ute  nation  lying 
heads  and  points  all  around  me,  as  close  as  they  could 
possibly  crowd,  after  a  day's  fatiguing  hunt  in  the  moun- 
tains. I  have  sat  there  in  the  long  winter  evenings,  when 
the  great  room  was  lighted  only  by  the  cheerful  blaze  of 
the  crackling  logs  roaring  up  the  huge  throats  of  its  two 
fireplaces  built  diagonally  across  opposite  corners,  watch- 
ing Maxwell,  Kit  Carson,  and  half  a  dozen  chiefs  silently 
interchange  ideas  in  the  wonderful  sign  language,  until 
the  glimmer  of  Aurora  announced  the  advent  of  another 
day.  But  not  a  sound  had  been  uttered  during  the  pro- 
tracted hours,  save  an  occasional  grunt  of  satisfaction  on 
the  part  of  the  Indians,  or  when  we  white  men  exchanged 
a  sentence. 

Frequently  Maxwell  and  Carson  would  play  the  game 
of  seven-up  for  hours  at  a  time,  seated  at  one  of  the  tables. 
Kit  was  usually  the  victor,  for  he  was  the  greatest  expert 
in  that  old  and  popular  pastime  I  have  ever  met.  Max- 
well was  an  inveterate  gambler,  but  not  by  any  means  in 
a  professional  sense;  he  indulged  in  the  hazard  of  the 
cards  simply  for  the  amusement  it  afforded  him  in  his 
rough  life  of  ease,  and  he  could  very  well  afford  the  losses 
which  the  pleasure  sometimes  entailed.  His  special  pen- 
chant, however,  was  betting  on  a  horse  race,  and  his  own 
stud  comprised  some  of  the  fleetest  animals  in  the  Terri- 


376  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

tory.  Had  he  lived  in  England  he  might  have  ruled  the 
turf,  but  many  jobs  were  put  up  on  him  by  unscrupulous 
jockeys,  by  which  he  -was  outrageously  defrauded  of 
immense  sums. 

He  was  fond  of  cards,  as  I  have  said,  both  of  the  purely 
American  game  of  poker,  and  also  of  old  sledge,  but  rarely 
played  except  with  personal  friends,  and  never  without 
stakes.  He  always  exacted  the  last  cent  he  had  won, 
though  the  next  morning,  perhaps,  he  would  present 
or  loan  his  unsuccessful  opponent  of  the  night  before  five 
hundred  or  a  thousand  dollars, if  he  needed  it;  an  immensely 
greater  sum,  in  all  probability,  than  had  been  gained  in 
the  game. 

The  kitchen  and  dining-rooms  of  his  princely  establish- 
ment were  detached  from  the  main  residence.  There  was 
one  of  the  latter  for  the  male  portion  of  his  retinue  and 
guests  of  that  sex,  and  another  for  the  female,  as,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  severe,  and  to  us  strange,  Mexican 
etiquette,  men  rarely  saw  a  woman  about  the  premises, 
though  there  were  many.  Only  the  quick  rustle  of  a 
skirt,  or  a  hurried  view  of  a  reboso,  as  its  wearer  flashed 
for  an  instant  before  some  window  or  half-open  door,  told 
of  their  presence. 

The  greater  portion  of  his  table-service  was  solid  silver, 
and  at  his  hospitable  board  there  were  rarely  any  vacant 
chairs.  Covers  were  laid  daily  for  about  thirty  persons ; 
for  he  had  always  many  guests,  invited  or  forced  upon 
him  in  consequence  of  his  proverbial  munificence,  or  by 
the  peculiar  location  of  his  manor-house  which  stood  upon 
a  magnificently  shaded  plateau  at  the  foot  of  mighty 
mountains,  a  short  distance  from  a  ford  on  the  Old  Trail. 
As  there  were  no  bridges  over  the  uncertain  streams  of 
the  great  overland  route  in  those  days,  the  ponderous 
Concord  coaches,  with  their  ever-full  burden  of  passen- 
gers, were  frequently  water-bound,    and   Maxwell's  the 


MAXVfELL'S   RANCH  377 

only  asylum  from  the  storm  and  flood;  consequently  he 
entertained  many. 

At  all  times,  and  in  all  seasons,  the  group  of  build- 
ings, houses,  stables,  mill,  store,  and  their  surrounding 
grounds,  were  a  constant  resort  and  loafing-place  of 
Indians.  From  the  superannuated  chiefs,  who  revelled 
lazily  during  the  sunny  hours  in  the  shady  peaceful- 
ness  of  the  broad  porches ;  the  young  men  of  the  tribe,  who 
gazed  with  covetous  eyes  upon  the  sleek-skinned,  blooded 
colts  sporting  in  the  spacious  corrals ;  the  squaws,  fasci- 
nated by  the  gaudy  calicoes,  bright  ribbons,  and  glittering- 
strings  of  beads  on  the  counters  or  shelves  of  the  large 
store,  to  the  half-naked,  chubby  little  pappooses  around 
the  kitchen  doors,  waiting  with  expectant  mouths  for  some 
delicious  morsel  of  refuse  to  be  thrown  to  them, — all 
assumed,  in  bearing  and  manner,  a  vested  right  of  pro- 
prietorship in  their  agreeable  environment. 

To  this  motley  group,  always  under  his  feet,  as  it  were, 
Maxwell  was  ever  passively  gracious,  although  they  were 
battening  in  idleness  on  his  prodigal  bounty  from  year  to 
year. 

His  retinue  of  servants,  necessarily  large,  was  made  up 
of  a  heterogeneous  mixture  of  Indians,  Mexicans,  and  half- 
breeds.  The  kitchens  were  presided  over  by  dusky 
maidens  under  the  tutelage  of  experienced  old  crones, 
and  its  precincts  were  sacred  to  them;  but  the  dining- 
rooms  were  forbidden  to  women  during  the  hours  of  meals, 
which  were  served  by  boys. 

Maxwell  was  rarely,  as  far  as  my  observation  extended, 
without  a  large  amount  of  money  in  his  possession.  He 
had  no  safe,  however,  his  only  place  of  temporary  deposit 
for  the  accumulated  cash  being  the  bottom  drawer  of  the 
old  bureau  in  the  large  room  to  which  I  have  referred, 
which  was  the  most  antiquated  concern  of  common  pine 
imaginable.      There  were  only  two  other  drawers  in  this 


378  THE   OLD    SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

old-fashioned  piece  of  furniture,  and  neither  of  them  pos- 
sessed a  lock.  The  third,  or  lower,  the  one  that  contained 
the  money,  did,  but  it  was  absolutely  worthless,  being  one 
of  the  cheapest  pattern  and  affording  not  the  slightest 
security;  besides,  the  drawers  above  it  could  be  pulled 
out,  exposing  the  treasure  immediately  beneath  to  the 
cupidity  of  any  one. 

I  have  frequently  seen  as  much  as  thirty  thousand  dollars 
—  gold,  silver,  greenbacks,  and  government  checks  —  at 
one  time  in  that  novel  depository.  Occasionally  these 
large  sums  remained  there  for  several  days,  yet  there  was 
never  an}'  extra  precaution  taken  to  prevent  its  abstrac- 
tion ;  doors  were  always  open  and  the  room  free  of  access 
to  every  one,  as  usual. 

I  once  suggested  to  Maxwell  the  propriety  of  purchas- 
ing a  safe  for  the  better  security  of  his  money,  but  he  only 
smiled,  while  a  strange,  resolute  look  flashed  from  his  dark 
eyes,  as  he  said:  "God  help  the  man  who  attempted  to 
rob  me  and  I  knew  him !  " 

The  sources  of  his  wealth  were  his  cattle,  sheep,  and 
the  products  of  his  area  of  cultivated  acres,  —  barley,  oats, 
and  corn  principally,  — which  he  disposed  of  to  the  quar- 
termaster and  commissary  departments  of  the  army,  in  the 
large  military  district  of  New  Mexico.  His  wool-clip 
must  have  been  enormous,  too;  hut  I  doubt  whether  he 
could  have  told  the  number  of  animals  that  furnished  it 
or  the  aggregate  of  his  vast  herds.  He  had  a  thousand 
horses,  ten  thousand  cattle,  and  forty  thousand  sheep  at 
the  time  I  knew  him  well,  according  to  the  best  estimates 
of  his  Mexican  relatives. 

He  also  possessed  a  large  and  perfectly  appointed  grist- 
mill, which  was  a  great  source  of  revenue,  for  wheat  was 
one  of  the  staple  crops  of  his  many  farms. 

Maxwell  was  fond  of  travelling  all  over  the  Territory, 
his   equipages   comprising  everything   in   the  shape  of  a 


MAXWELL'S   RANCH  379 

vehicle,  through  all  their  varieties,  from  the  most  plainly 
constructed  huckhoard  to  the  lumbering,  but  comfortable 
and  expensive,  Concord  coach,  mounted  on  thorough  braces 
instead  of  springs,  and  drawn  by  four  or  six  horses.  He 
was  perfectly  reckless  in  his  driving,  dashing  through 
streams,  over  irrigating  ditches,  stones,  and  stumps  like 
a  veritable  Jehu,  regardless  of  consequences,  but,  as  is 
usually  the  fortune  of  such  precipitate  horsemen,  rarely 
coming  to  grief. 

The  headquarters  of  the  TJte  agency  were  established  at 
Maxwell's  Ranch  in  early  days,  and  the  government  de- 
tailed a  company  of  cavalry  to  camp  there,  more,  however, 
to  impress  the  plains  tribes  who  roamed  along  the  Old 
Trail  east  of  the  Raton  Range,  than  for  any  effect  on  the 
Utes,  whom  Maxwell  could  always  control,  and  who 
regarded  him  as  a  father. 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1867,  Maxwell,  who  owned  an 
antiquated  and  rusty  six-pound  field  howitzer,  suggested 
to  the  captain  of  the  troop  stationed  there  the  propriety 
of  celebrating  the  day.  So  the  old  piece  was  dragged  from 
its  place  under  a  clump  of  elms,  where  it  had  been  hidden 
in  the  grass  and  weeds  ever  since  the  Mexican  War  proba- 
bly, and  brought  near  the  house.  The  captain  and  Max- 
well acted  the  role  of  gunners,  the  former  at  the  muzzle, 
the  latter  at  the  breech ;  the  discharge  was  premature, 
blowing  out  the  captain's  eye  and  taking  off  his  arm, 
while  Maxwell  escaped  with  a  shattered  thumb.  As  soon 
as  the  accident  occurred,  a  sergeant  was  despatched  to  Fort 
Union  on  one  of  the  fastest  horses  on  the  ranch,  the  faith- 
ful animal  falling  dead  the  moment  he  stopped  in  front 
of  the  surgeon's  quarters,  having  made  the  journey  of 
fifty-five  miles  in  little  more  than  four  hours. 

The  surgeon  left  the  post  immediately,  arriving  at 
Maxwell's  late  that  night,  but  in  time  to  save  the  officer's 
life,  after  which  he  dressed  Maxwell's  apparently  incon- 


380  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

siderable  wound.  In  a  few  days,  however,  the  thumb 
grew  angry-looking;  it  would  not  yield  to  the  doctor's 
careful  treatment,  so  he  reluctantly  decided  that  amputa- 
tion was  necessary.  After  an  operation  was  determined 
upon,  I  prevailed  upon  Maxwell  to  come  to  the  fort  and 
remain  with  me,  inviting  Kit  Carson  at  the  same  time, 
that  he  might  assist  in  catering  to  the  amusement  of  my 
suffering  guest.  Maxwell  and  Carson  arrived  at  my 
quarters  late  in  the  day,  after  a  tedious  ride  in  the  big 
coach,  and  the  surgeon,  in  order  to  allow  a  prolonged  rest 
on  account  of  Maxwell's  feverish  condition,  postponed 
the  operation  until  the  following  evening. 

The  next  night,  as  soon  as  it  grew  dark  —  we  waited  for 
coolness,  as  the  days  were  excessively  hot,  —  the  neces- 
sary preliminaries  were  arranged,  and  when  everything 
was  ready  the  surgeon  commenced.  Maxwell  declined 
the  anaesthetic  prepared  for  him,  and  sitting  in  a  common 
office  chair  put  out  his  hand,  while  Carson  and  myself 
stood  on  opposite  sides,  each  holding  an  ordinary  kerosene 
lamp.  In  a  few  seconds  the  operation  was  concluded,  and 
after  the  silver-wire  ligatures. were  twisted  in  their  places, 
I  offered  Maxwell,  who  had  not  as  yet  permitted  a  single 
sigh  to  escape  his  lips,  half  a  tumblerful  of  whiskey;  but 
before  I  had  fairly  put  it  to  his  mouth,  he  fell  over,  hav- 
ing fainted  dead  away,  while  great  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  on  his  forehead,  indicative  of  the  pain  he  had  suf- 
fered, as  the  amputation  of  the  thumb,  the  surgeon  told 
us  then,  was  as  bad  as  that  of  a  leg. 

He  returned  to  his  ranch  as  soon  as  the  surgeon  pro- 
nounced him  well,  and  Carson  to  his  home  in  Taos.  I 
saw  the  latter  but  once  more  at  Maxwell's ;  but  he  was  en 
route  to  visit  me  at  Fort  Harker,  in  Kansas,  when  he  was 
taken  ill  at  Fort  Lyon,  where  he  died. 

"  A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will. 
And  the  thoughts  of  vouth  are  long,  long  thoughts." 


MAXWELL'S   RANCH  381 

How  true  it  now  seems  to  me,  as  the  recollections  of  my 
boyish  days,  when  I  read  of  the  exploits  of  Kit  Carson, 
crowd  upon  1113-  memory!  I  firmly  believed  him  to  be  at 
least  ten  feet  tall,  carrying  a  rifle  so  heavy  that,  like 
Bruce's  sword,  it  required  two  men  to  lift  it.  I  imagined 
he  drank  out  of  nothing  smaller  than  a  river,  and  picked 
the  carcass  of  a  whole  buffalo  as  easily  as  a  lady  does  the 
wing  of  a  quail.  Ten  years  later  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  foremost  frontiersman,  and  found  him  a 
delicate,  reticent,  under-sized,  wiry  man,  as  perfectly  the 
opposite  of  the  type  my  childish  brain  had  created  as  it 
is  possible  to  conceive. 

At  Fort  Union  our  mail  arrived  every  morning  by 
coach  over  the  Trail,  generally  pulling  up  at  the  sutler's 
store,  whose  proprietor  was  postmaster,  about  daylight. 
While  Maxwell  and  Kit  were  my  guests,  I  sauntered 
down  after  breakfast  one  morning  to  get  my  mail,  and 
while  waiting  for  the  letters  to  be  distributed,  happened 
to  glance  at  some  papers  lying  on  the  counter,  among 
which  I  saw  a  new  periodical  —  the  Day's  Doings,  I 
think  it  was — that  had  a  full-page  illustration  of  a  scene 
in  a  forest.  In  the  foreground  stood  a  gigantic  figure 
dressed  in  the  traditional  buckskin ;  on  one  arm  rested 
an  immense  rifle ;  his  other  arm  was  around  the  waist  of 
the  conventional  female  of  such  sensational  journals, 
while  in  front,  lying  prone  upon  the  ground,  were  half 
a  dozen  Indians,  evidently  slain  by  the  singular  hero  in 
defending  the  impossibly  attired  female.  The  legend 
related  how  all  this  had  been  effected  by  the  famous  Kit 
Carson.  I  purchased  the  paper,  returned  with  it  to  my 
room,  and  after  showing  it  to  several  officers  who  had 
called  upon  Maxwell,  I  handed  it  to  Kit.  He  wiped  his 
spectacles,  studied  the  picture  intently  for  a  few  seconds, 
turned  round,  and  said :  "  Gentlemen,  that  thar-  may  be 
true,  but  I  hain't  got  no  recollection  of  it." 


382  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

I  passed  a  delightful  two  weeks  with  Maxwell,  late  in 
the  summer  of  1867,  at  the  time  that  the  excitement  over 
the  discovery  of  gold  on  his  ranch  had  just  commenced, 
and  adventurers  were  beginning  to  congregate  in  the  hills 
and  gulches  from  everywhere.  The  discovery  of  the  pre- 
cious metal  on  his  estate  was  the  first  cause  of  his  finan- 
cial embarrassment.  It  was  the  ruin  also  of  many  other 
prominent  men  in  New  Mexico,  who  expended  their  entire 
fortune  in  the  construction  of  an  immense  ditch,  forty 
miles  in  length,  — from  the  Little  Canadian  or  Red  River, 
—  to  supply  the  placer  diggings  in  the  Moreno  valley 
with  water,  when  the  melted  snow  of  Old  Baldy  range 
had  exhausted  itself  in  the  late  summer.  The  scheme 
was  a  stupendous  failure ;  its  ruins  may  be  seen  to-day  in 
the  deserted  valleys,  a  monument  to  man's  engineering 
skill,  but  the  wreck  of  his  hopes. 

For  some  years  previous  to  the  discovery  of  gold  in  the 
mountains  and  gulches  of  Maxwell's  Ranch,  it  was  known 
that  copper  existed  in  the  region;  several  shafts  had  been 
sunk  and  tunnels  driven  in  various  places,  and  gold  had 
been  found  from  time  to  time,  but  was  kept  a  secret  for 
many  months.  Its  presence  was  at  last  revealed  to  Max- 
well by  a  party  of  his  own  miners,  who  were  boring  into 
the  heart  of  Old  Baldy  for  a  copper  lead  that  had  cropped 
out  and  was  then  lost. 

Of  course,  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  the  discovery  of 
gold  from  the  world  is  an  impossibility;  such  was  the 
case  in  this  instance,  and  soon  commenced  that  squatter 
immigration  out  of  which,  after  the  ranch  was  sold  and 
Maxwell  died,  grew  that  litigation  which  has  resulted  in 
favour  of  the  company  who  purchased  from  or  through  the 
first  owners  after  Maxwell's  death. 

He  was  a  representative  man  of  the  border  of  the  same 
class  as  his  compeers,  —  "wild-civilized  men,"  to  borrow 
an   expressive   term   from    John    Burroughs,  —  of   strong 


MAXWELL'S   RANCH  383 

local  attachments,  and  overflowing  with  the  milk  of 
human  kindness.  To  such  as  he  there  was  an  uncon- 
querable infatuation  in  life  on  the  remote  plains  and  in 
the  solitude  of  the  mountains.  There  was  never  anything 
of  the  desperado  in  their  character,  while  the  adventurers 
who  at  times  have  made  the  far  West  infamous,  since  the 
advent  of  the  railroad,  were  -bad  men  originally. 

Occasionally  such  men  turn  up  everywhere,  and  become 
a  terror  to  the  community,  but  they  are  alwaj's  wound  up 
sooner  or  later:  they  die  with  their  boots  on;  Western 
graveyards  are  full  of  them. 

Maxwell,  under  contract  with  the  Interior  Department, 
furnished  live  beeves  to  the  Ute  nation,  the  issue  of  which 
was  made  weekly  from  his  own  vast  herds.  The  cattle, 
as  wild  as  those  from  the  Texas  prairies,  were  driven  by  his 
herders  into  an  immense  enclosed  field,  and  there  turned 
loose  to  be  slaughtered  by  the  savages. 

Once  when  at  the  ranch  I  told  Maxwell  I  should  like  to 
have  a  horse  to  witness  the  novel  sight.  He  immediately 
ordered  a  Mexican  groom  to  procure  one ;  but  I  did  not  see 
the  peculiar  smile  that  lighted  up  his  face,  as  he  whispered 
something  to  the  man  which  I  did  not  catch.  Presently 
the  groom  returned  leading  a  magnificent  gray,  which  I 
mounted,  Maxwell  suggesting  that  I  should  ride  down  to 
the  large  field  and  wait  there  until  the  herd  arrived.  I  en- 
tered the  great  corral,  patting  my  horse  on  the  neck  now 
and  then,. to  make  him  familiar  with  my  touch,  and  at- 
tempted to  converse  with  some  of  the  chiefs,  who  were 
dressed  in  their  best,  painted  as  if  for  the  war-path,  gaily 
bedecked  with  feathers  and  armed  with  rifles  and  gaud- 
ily appointed  bows  and  arrows ;  but  I  did  not  succeed 
very  well  in  drawing  them  from  their  normal  reticence. 
The  squaws,  a  hundred  of  them,  were  sitting  on  the 
ground,  their  knives  in  hand  ready  for  the  labour  which  is 
the  fate  of  their  sex  in  all  savage  tribes,  while  their  lords' 


384  THE   OLD   SANTA  FB   TRAIL 

portion  of  the  impending  business  was  to  end  with  the 
more  manly  efforts  of  the  chase. 

Suddenly  a  great  cloud  of  dust  rose  on  the  trail  from 
the  mountains,  and  on  came  the  maddened  animals,  fairly 
shaking  the  earth  with  their  mighty  tread.  As  soon  as  the 
gate  was  closed  behind  them,  and  uttering  a  characteristic 
yell  that  was  blood-curdling  in  its  ferocity,  the  Indians 
charged  upon  the  now  doubly  frightened  herd,  and  com- 
menced to  discharge  their  rifles,  regardless  of  the  presence 
of  any  one  but  themselves.  My  horse  became  paralyzed 
for  an  instant  and  stood  poised  on  his  hind  legs,  like  the 
steed  represented  in  that  old  lithographic  print  of  Napoleon 
crossing  the  Alps ;  then  taking  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  he 
rushed  aimlessly  into  the  midst  of  the  flying  herd,  while 
the  bullets  from  the  guns  of  the  excited  savages  .rained 
around  my  head.  I  had  always  boasted  of  my  equestrian 
accomplishments,  —  I  was  never  thrown  but  once  in  my 
life,  and  that  was  years  afterward,  —  but  in  this  instance 
it  taxed  all  my  powers  to  keep  my  seat.  In  less  than 
twenty  minutes  the  last  beef  had  fallen  ;  and  the  warriors, 
inflated  with  the  pride  of  their  achievement,  rode  silently 
out  of  the  field,  leaving  the  squaws  to  cut  up  and  carry 
away  the  meat  to  their  lodges,  more  than  three  miles 
distant,  which  they  soon  accomplished,  to  the  last  quiver- 
ing morsel. 

As  I  rode  leisurely  back  to  the  house,  I  saw  Maxwell 
and  Kit  standing  on  the  broad  porch,  their  sides  actually 
shaking  with  laughter  at  my  discomfiture,  they  having 
been  watching  me  from  the  very  moment  the  herd  entered 
the  corral.  It  appeared  that  the  horse  Maxwell  ordered 
the  groom  to  bring  me  was  a  recent  importation  from  St. 
Louis,  had  never  before  seen  an  Indian,  and  was  as  unused 
to  the  prairies  and  mountains  as  a  street-car  mule.  Kit  said 
that  ray  mount  reminded  him  of  one  that  his  antagonist  in 
a  duel  rode  a  great  many  years  ago  when  he  was  young. 


MAXWELL'S   RANCH  385 

If  the  animal  had  not  been  such  "a  fourth-of-July  "  brute, 
his  opponent  would  in  all  probability  have  finished  him,  as 
he  was  a  splendid  shot;  but  Kit  fortunately  escaped,  the 
bullet  merely  grazing  him  under  the  ear,  leaving  a  scar 
which  he  then  showed  me. 

One  night  Kit  Carson,  Maxwell,  and  I  were  up  in  the 
Raton  Mountains  above  the  Old  Trail,  and  having  lingered 
too  long,  were  caught  above  the  clouds  against  our  will, 
darkness  having  overtaken  us  before  we  were  ready  to 
descend  into  the  valley.  It  was  dangerous  to  undertake 
the  trip  over  such  a  precipitous  and  rocky  trail,  so  we  were 
compelled  to  make  the  best  of  our  situation.  It  was 
awfully  cold,  and  as  we  had  brought  no  blankets,  we  dared 
not  go  to  sleep  for  fear  our  fire  might  go  out,  and  we 
should  freeze.  We  therefore  determined  to  make  a  night 
of  it  by  telling  yarns,  smoking  our  pipes,  and  walking 
around  at  times.  After  sitting  awhile,  Maxwell  pointed 
toward  the  Spanish  Peaks,  whose  snow-white  tops  cast  a 
diffused  light  in  the  heavens  above  them,  and  remarked 
that  in  the  deep  canon  which  separates  them,  he  had  had 
one  of  the  "  closest  calls  "  of  his  life,  willingly  complying 
when  I  asked  him  to  tell  us  the  story. 

"It  was  in  1847.  I  came  down  from  Taos  with  a  party 
to  go  to  the  Cimarron  crossing  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  to 
pick  up  a  large  herd  of  horses  for  the  United  States  Quar- 
termaster's Department.  We  succeeded  in  gathering  about 
a  hundred  and  started  back  with  them,  letting  them  graze 
slowly  along,  as  we  were  in  no  hurry.  When  we  arrived 
at  the  foot-hills  north  of  Bent's  Fort,  we  came  suddenly 
upon  the  trail  of  a  large  war-band  of  Utes,  none  of  whom 
we  saw,  but  from  subsequent  developments  the  savages 
must  have  discovered  us  days  before  we  reached  the  moun- 
tains. I  knew  we  were  not  strong  enough  to  cope  with 
the  whole  Ute  nation,  and  concluded  the  best  thing  for 
us  to  do  under  the  ticklish  circumstances  was  to  make  a 
2c 


386  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

detour,  and  put  them  off  our  trail.  So  we  turned  abruptly 
down  the  Arkansas,  intending  to  try  and  get  to  Taos  in 
that  direction,  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
around.  It  appeared  afterward  that  the  Indians  had  been 
following  us  all  the  way.  When  we  found  this  out,  some 
of  the  men  believed  they  were  another  party,  and  not  the 
same  whose  trail  we  came  upon  when  we  turned  down'  the 
river,  but  I  always  insisted  they  were.  When  we  arrived 
within  a  few  days'  drive  of  Taos,  we  were  ambushed  in  one 
of  the  narrow  passes  of  the  range,  and  had  the  bloodiest 
fight  with  the  Utes  on  record.  There  were  thirteen  of  us, 
all  told,  and  two  little  children  whom  we  were  escorting  to 
their  friends  at  Taos,  having  received  them  at  the  Cimarron 
crossing. 

"  While  we  were  quietly  taking  our  breakfast  one  morn- 
ing, and  getting  ready  to  pull  out  for  the  day's  march, 
perfectly  unsuspicious  of  the  proximity  of  any  Indians, 
they  dashed  in  upon  us,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  stam- 
peded all  our  stock  —  loose  animals  as  well  as  those  we 
were  riding.  While  part  of  the  savages  were  employed 
in  running  off  the  animals,  fifty  of  their  most  noted 
warriors,  splendidly  mounted  and  horribly  painted,  rushed 
into  the  camp,  around  the  fire  of  which  the  men  and  the 
little  children  were  peacefully  sitting,  and,  discharging 
their  guns  as  they  rode  up,  killed  one  man  and  wounded 
another. 

"  Terribly  surprised  as  we  were,  it  did  not  turn  the 
heads  of  the  old  mountaineers,  and  I  immediately  told 
them  to  make  a  break  for  a  clump  of  timber  near  by,  and 
that  we  would  fight  them  as  long  as  one  of  us  could  stand 
up.  There  we  fought  and  fought  against  fearful  odds, 
until  all  were  wounded  except  two.  The  little  children 
were  captured  at  the  beginning  of  the  trouble  and  carried 
off  at  once.  After  a  while  the  savages  got  tired  of  the 
hard  work,  and,  as   is  frequently  the   case,  went   away 


MAXWKLL'S   RANCH  387 

of  their  own  free  will ;  but  they  left  us  in  a  terrible 
plight.  All  were  sore,  stiff,  and  weak  from  their  many 
wounds ;  on  foot,  and  without  any  food  or  ammunition  to 
procure  game  with,  having  exhausted  our  supply  in  the 
awfully  unequal  battle  ;  besides,  we  were  miles  from  home, 
with  every  prospect  of  starving  to  death. 

"  We  could  not  remain  where  we  were,  so  as  soon  as 
darkness  came  on,  we  started  out  to  walk  to  some  settle- 
ment. We  dared  not  show  ourselves  by  daylight,  and  all 
through  the  long  hours  when  the  sun  was  up,  we  were 
obliged  to  hide  in  the  brush  and  ravines  until  night  over- 
took us  again,  and  we  could  start  on  our  painful  march. 

"  We  had  absolutely  nothing  to  eat,  and  our  wounds 
began  to  fester,  so  that  we  could  hardly  move  at  all.  We 
should  undoubtedly  have  perished,  if,  on  the  third  day,  a 
band  of  friendly  Indians  of  another  tribe  had  not  gone  to 
Taos  and  reported  the  fight  to  the  commanding  officer 
of  the  troops  there.  These  Indians  had  heard  of  our 
trouble  with  the  Utes,  and  knowing  how  strong  they  were, 
and  our  weakness,  surmised  our  condition,  and  so  hastened 
to  convey  the  bad  news. 

"  A  company  of  dragoons  was  immediately  sent  to  our 
rescue,  under  the  guidance  of  Dick  Wooton,  who  was  and 
has  ever  been  a  warm  personal  friend  of  mine.  They  came 
upon  us  about  forty  miles  from  Taos,  and  never  were  we 
more  surprised  ;  we  had  become  so  starved  and  emaciated 
that  we  had  abandoned  all  hope  of  escaping  what  seemed 
to  be  our  inevitable  fate. 

"  When  the  troops  found  us,  we  had  only  a  few  rags,  our 
clothes  having  been  completely  stripped  from  our  bodies 
while  struggling  through  the  heavy  underbrush  on  our 
trail,  and  we  were  so  far  exhausted  that  we  could  not  stand 
on  our  feet.  One  more  day,  and  we  would  have  been 
laid  out. 

"  The  little  children  were,  fortunately,  saved  from  the 


388 


THE'  OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


horror  of  that  terrible  march  after  the  fight,  as  the  Indians 
carried  them  to  their  winter  camp,  where,  if  not  absolutely 
happy,  they  were  under  shelter  and  fed ;  escaping  the 
starvation  which  would  certainly  have  been  their  fate  if 
they  had  remained  with  us.  They  were  eventually  ran- 
somed for  a  cash  payment  by  the  government,  and  alto- 
gether had  not  been  very  harshly  treated." 


/idxwe/b'/idnor/ioujc  -/faxt/e/6  /finc/i 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    BENTS'    SEVERAL    FORTS FAMOUS    TRADING-POSTS  —  REN- 
DEZVOUS     OF      THE      ROCKY      MOUNTAIN      TRAPPERS  CASTLE 

WILLIAM  AND  INCIDENTS  CONNECTED  WITH  THE  NOTED.  PLACE 

BARTERING  WITH    THE    INDIANS ANNUAL    FEAST    OF    THE 

ARAPAHOES    AND    CHEYENNES  OLD    WOLF'S    FIRST    VISIT    TO 

BENT'S     FORT THE    SURPRISE     OF     THE    SAVAGES STORIES 

TOLD     BY     CELEBRATED    FRONTIERSMEN    AROUND     THE    CAMP- 
FIRE 


HE  famous  Bent  brothers, 
William,  George,  Rob- 
ert, and  Charles,  were 
French-Canadian  hunt- 
ers and  trappers,  and 
had  been  employed  al- 
most from  boyhood,  in 
the  early  days  of  the 
border,  by  the  American 
Fur  Company  in  the 
mountains  of  the  North- 
west. 

In  1826,  almost  imme- 
diately after  the  trans- 
ference of  the  fur  trade 
to  the  valley  of  the  Ar- 
kansas, when  the  commerce  of  the  prairies  was  fairly 
initiated,  the  three  "Bents  and  Ceran  St.  Vrain,  also  a 
French-Canadian  and  trapper,  settled  on  the  Upper 
Arkansas,  where  they  erected  a  stockade.  It  was,  of 
course,   a  rude   affair,  formed  of  long  stakes  or  pickets 

389 


390  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

driven  into  the  ground,  after  the  Mexican  style  known 
as  jacal.  The  sides  were  then  ceiled  and  roofed,  and  it 
served  its  purpose  of  a  trading-post.  This  primitive  fort 
was  situated  on  the  left  or  north  bank  of  the  river,  about 
halfway  between  Pueblo  and  Canon  City,  those  beautiful 
mountain  towns  of  to-day. 

Two  years  afterward,  in  1828,  the  proprietors  of  the 
primitive  stockade  in  the  remote  wilderness  found  it 
necessary  to  move  closer  to  the  great  hunting-grounds 
lower  down  the  valley.  There,  about  twelve  miles  north- 
east of  the  now  thriving  town  of  Las  Animas,  the  Bents 
commenced  the  construction  of  a  relatively  large  and  more 
imposing-looking  structure  than  the  first.  The  principal 
material  used  in  the  new  building,  or  rather  in  its  walls, 
was  adobe,  or  sun-dried  brick,  so  common  even  to-day  in 
New  Mexican  architecture.  Four  years  elapsed  before 
the  new  fort  was  completed,  during  which  period  its 
owners,  like  other  trappers,  lived  in  tents  or  teepees 
fashioned  of  buffalo-skins,  after  the  manner  of  the  Indians. 

When  at  last  the  new  station  was  completed,  it  was 
named  Fort  William,  in  honour  of  Golonel  William  Bent, 
who  was  the  leader  of  the  family  and  the  most  active 
trader  among  the  four  partners  in  the  concern.  The  colo- 
nel frequently  made  long  trips  to  the  remote  villages  of 
the  Arapahoes,  Cheyennes,  Kiowas,  and  Comanches,  which 
were  situated  far  to  the  south  and  east,  on  the  Canadian 
River  and  its  large  tributaries.  His  miscellaneous  assort- 
ment of  merchandise  he  transported  upon  pack-mules  to 
the  Indian  rendezvous,  bringing  back  to  the  fort  the  valu- 
able furs  he  had  exchanged  for  the  goods  so  eagerly  cov- 
eted by  the  savages.  It  was  while  on  one  of  his  trading 
expeditions  to  the  Cheyenne  nation  that  the  colonel 
married  a  young  squaw  of  that  tribe,  the  daughter  of  the 
principal  chief. 

William  Bent  for  his  day  and  time  was  an  exceptionally 


BENT'S   FORTS  391 

good  man.  His  integrity,  his  truthfulness  on  all  occa- 
sions, and  his  remarkable  courage  endeared  him  to  the 
red  and  white  man  alike,  and  Fort  William  prospered 
wonderfully  under  his  careful  and  just  management. 
Both  his  brothers  and  St.  Vrain  had  taken  up  their  resi- 
dence in  Taos,  and  upon  the  colonel  devolved  the  entire 
charge  of  the  busy  establishment.  It  soon  became  the 
most  popular  rendezvous  of  the  mountaineers  and  trappers, 
and  in  its  immediate  vicinity  several  tribes  of  Indians 
took  up  their  temporary  encampment. 

In  1852  Fort  William  was  destroyed  under  the  follow- 
ing strange  circumstances :  It  appears  that  the  United 
States  desired  to  purchase  it.  Colonel  Bent  had  decided 
upon  a  price,  —  sixteen  thousand  dollars,  —  but  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  War  Department  offered  only  twelve 
thousand,  which,  of  course,  Bent  refused.  Negotiations 
were  still  pending,  when  the  colonel,  growing  tired  of  the 
red-tape  and  circumlocution  of  the  authorities,  and  while 
in  a  mad  mood,  removed  all  his  valuables  from  the  struct- 
ure, excepting  some  barrels  of  gunpowder,  and  then  de- 
liberately set  fire  to  the  old  landmark.  When  the  flames 
reached  the  powder,  there  was  an  explosion  which  threw 
down  portions  of  the  walls,  but  did  not  wholly  destroy 
them.  The  remains  of  the  once  noted  buildings  stand 
to-day,  melancholy  relics  of  a  past  epoch. 

In  the  same  year  the  indefatigable  and  indomitable 
colonel  determined  upon  erecting  a  much  more  important 
structure.  He  selected  a  site  on  the  same  side  of  the 
Arkansas,  in  the  locality  known  as  Big  Timbers.  Regard- 
ing this  new  venture,  Colonel  or  Judge  Moore  of  Las 
Animas,  a  son-in-law  of  William  Bent,  tells  in  a  letter 
to  the  author  of  the  history  of  Colorado  the  following 
facts : — 

"  Leaving  ten  men  in  camp  to  get  out  stone  for  the  new 
post,  Colonel  Bent  took  a  part  of  his  outfit  and  went  to  &■ 


392  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Kiowa  village,  about  two  hundred  miles  southwest,  and 
remained  there  all  winter,  trading  with  the  Kiowas  and 
Comanches.  In  the  spring  of  1853  he  returned  to  Big 
Timbers,  when  the  construction  of  the  new  post  was 
begun,  and  the  work  continued  until  completed  in  the 
summer  of  1854;  and  it  was  used  as  a  trading-post  until 
the  owner  leased  it  to  the  government  in  the  autumn  of 
1859.  Colonel  Sedgwick  had  been  sent  out  to  fight  the 
Kiowas  that  year,  and  in  the  fall  a  large  quantity  of  com- 
missary stores  had  been  sent  him.  Colonel  Bent  then 
moved  up  the  river  to  a  point  just  above  the  mouth  of  the 
Purgatoire,  and  built  several  rooms  of  cottonwood  pickets, 
and  there  spent  the  winter.  In  the  spring  of  1860,  Colonel 
Sedgwick  began  the  construction  of  officers'  buildings, 
company  quarters,  corrals,  and  stables,  all  of  stone,  and 
named  the  place  Fort  Wise,  in  honour  of  Governor  Wise  of 
Virginia.  In  1861  the  name  was  changed  to  Fort  Lyon, 
in  honour  of  General  Lyon,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Wilson  Creek,  Missouri.  In  the  spring  of  1866,  the 
Arkansas  River  overflowed  its  banks,  swept  up  into  the 
fort,  and,  undermining  the  walls,  rendered  it  untenable 
for  military  purposes.  The  camp  was  moved  to  a  point 
twenty  miles  below,  and  the  new  Fort  Lyon  established. 
The  old  post  was  repaired,  and  used  as  a  stage  station  by 
Barlow,  Sanderson,  and  Company,  who  ran  a  mail, 
express,  and  passenger  line  between  Kansas  City  and 
Santa  Fe\" 

The  contiguous  region  to  Fort  William  was  in  the  early 
days  a  famous  hunting-ground.  It  abounded  in  nearly 
every  variety  of  animal  indigenous  to  the  mountains  and 
plains,  among  which  were  the  panther,  —  the  so-called 
California  lion  of  to-day, — the  lynx,  erroneously  termed 
wild  cat,  white  wolf,  prairie  wolf,  silver-gray  fox,  prairie 
fox,  antelope,  buffalo,  gray,  grizzly  and  cinnamon  bears, 
together  with  the  common  brown  and  black  species,  the 


BENT'S   FORTS  393 

red  deer  and  the  black-tail,  the  latter  the  finest  venison 
in  the  world.  Of  birds  there  were  wild  turkeys,  quail, 
and  grouse,  besides  an  endless  variety  of  the  smaller-sized 
families,  not  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  domain  of 
game  in  a  hunter's  sense.  It  was  a  veritable  paradise, 
too,  for  the  trappers.  Its  numerous  streams  and  creeks 
were  famous  for  beaver,  otter,  and  mink. 

Scarcely  an  acre  of  the  surrounding  area  within  the 
radius  of  hundreds  of  miles  but  has  been  the  scene  of 
many  deadly  encounters  with  the  wily  red  man,'  stories 
of  which  are  still  current  among  the  few  old  mountaineers 
yet  living. 

The  fort  was  six  hundred  and  fifty  miles  west  of  Fort 
Leavenworth,  in  latitude  thirty-eight  degrees  and  two 
minutes  north,  and  longitude  one  hundred  and  three 
degrees  and  three  minutes  west,  from  Greenwich.  The 
exterior  walls  of  the  fort,  whose  figure  was  that  of  a 
parallelogram,  were  fifteen  feet  high  and  four  feet  thick. 
It  was  a  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  wide  and  divided 
into  various  compartments.  On  the  northwest  and  south- 
east corners  were  hexagonal  bastions,  in  which  were 
mounted  a  number  of  cannon.  The  walls  of  the  building 
served  as  the  walls  of  the«rooms,  all  of  which  faced  inwards 
on  a  plaza,  after  the  general  style  of  Mexican  architecture. 
The  roofs  of  the  rooms  were  made  of  poles,  on  which  was 
a  heavy  layer  of  dirt,  as  in  the  houses  of  native  Mexicans 
to-day.  The  fort  possessed  a  billiard  table,  that  visitors 
might  amuse  themselves,  and  in  the  office  was  a  small 
telescope  with  a  fair  range  of  seven  miles. 

The  occupants  of  the  far-away  establishment,  in  its 
palmy  days  (for  years  it  was  the  only  building  between 
Council  Grove  and  the  mountains),  were  traders,  Indians, 
hunters,  and  French  trappers,  who  were  the  employees 
of  the  great  fur  companies.  Many  of  the  latter  had 
Indian  wives.     Later,  after  a  stage  line  had  been  put  in 


394  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

operation  across  the  plains  to  Santa  Fe",  the  fort  was 
relegated  to  a  mere  station  for  the  overland  route,  and 
with  the  march  of  civilization  in  its  course  westward,  the 
trappers,  hunters,  and  traders  vanished  from  the  once 
famous  rendezvous. 

The  walls  were  loopholed  for  musketry,  and  the  entrance 
to  the  plaza,  or  corral,  was  guarded  by  large  wooden  gates. 
During  the  war  with  Mexico,  the  fort  was  headquarters 
for  the  commissary  department,  and  many  supplies  were 
stored  there,  though  the  troops  camped  below  on  the  beau- 
tiful river-bottom.  In  the  centre  of  the  corral,  in  the 
early  days  when  the  place  was  a  rendezvous  of  the  trap- 
pers, a  large  buffalo-robe  press  was  erected.  When  the 
writer  first  saw  the  famous  fort,  now  over  a  third  of  a 
century  ago,  one  of  the  cannon,  that  burst  in  firing  a  salute 
to  General  Kearney,  could  be  seen  half  buried  in  the  dirt 
of  the  plaza. 

By  barometrical  measurements  taken  by  the  engineer 
officers  of  the  army  at  different  times,  the  height  of  Bent's 
Fort  above  the  ocean  level  is  approximately  eight  thousand 
nine  hundred  and  fifty-eight  feet,  and  the  fall  of  the  Arkan- 
sas River  from  the  fort  to  the  great  bend  of  that  stream, 
about  three  hundred  and  eleven  .miles  east,  is  seven  feet 
and  four-tenths  per  mile. 

It  was  in  a  relatively  fair  state  of  preservation  thirty- 
three  years  ago,  but  now  not  a  vestige  of  it  remains, 
excepting  perhaps  a  mound  of  dirt,  the  disintegration  of 
the  mud  bricks  of  which  the  historical  structure  was  built. 

The  Indians  whose  villages  were  located  a  few  miles 
below  the  fort,  or  at  least  the  chief  men  of  the  various 
tribes,  passed  much  of  their  time  within  the  shelter  of  the 
famous  structure.  They  were  bountifully  fed,  and  every- 
thing they  needed  furnished  them.  This  was  purely  from 
policy,  however;  for  if  their  wishes  were  not  gratified, 
their   hunters    would    not    bring'  in  their   furs   to   trade. 


BENT'S  FORTS  395 

The  principal  chiefs  never  failed  to  be  present  when  a 
meal  was  announced  as  ready,  and  however  scarce  pro- 
visions might  be,  the  Indians  must  be  fed. 

The  first  farm  in  the  fertile  and  now  valuable  lands  of  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  de  las  Animas 1  was  opened  by  the  Bents. 
The  area  selected  for  cultivation  was  in  the  beautiful  bot- 
tom between  the  fort  and  the  ford,  a  strip  about  a  mile  in 
length,  and  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  six  hundred  feet 
in  width.  Nothing  could  be  grown  without  irrigation, 
and  to  that  end  an  acequia,  as  the  Mexicans  call  the 
ditch  through  which  the  water  flows,  was  constructed, 
and  a  crop  put  in.  Before  the  enterjurising  projectors 
of  the  scheme  could  reap  a  harvest,  the  hostile  savages 
dashed  iu  and  destroyed  everything. 

Uncle  John  Smith  was  one  of  the  principal  traders  back 
in  the  '30's,  and  he  was  very  successful,  perhaps  because 
he  was  undoubtedly  the  most  perfect  master  of  the  Chey- 
enne language  at  that  time  in  the  whole  mountain 
region. 

Among  those  who  frequently  came  to  the  fort  were 
Kit  Carson,  L.  B.  Maxwell,  Uncle  Dick  Wooton,  Baptiste 
Brown,  Jim  Bridger,  Old  Bill  Williams,  James  Beck- 
wourth,  Shawnee  Spiebuck,  Shawnee  Jake,  — the  latter 
two,  noted  Indian  trappers,  — besides  a  host  of  others. 

The  majority  of  the  old  trappers,  to  a  stranger,  until 
he  knew  their  peculiar  characteristics,  were  seemingly 
of  an  unsociable  disposition.  It  was  an  erroneous  idea, 
however;  for  they  were  the  most  genial  companions  imagi- 
nable, generous  to  a  fault,  and  to  fall  into  one  of  their 
camps  was  indeed  a  lucky  thing  for  the  lost  traveller. 
Eveiything  the  host  had  was  at  his  guest's  disposal,  and 
though  coffee  and  sugar  were  the  dearest  of  his  luxuries, 
often  purchased  with  a  whole  season's  trapping,  the  black 

1  "  River  of  Souls."  The  stream  is  also  called  Le  Purgatoire,  corrupted 
by  the  Americans  into  Picketwire. 


396  THE  OLD  SANTA  EE  TRAIL 

fluid  was  offered  with  genuine  free-heartedness,  and  the 
last  plug  of  tobacco  placed  at  the  disposition  of  his 
chance  visitor,  as  though  it  could  be  picked  up  on  the 
ground  anywhere. 

Goods  brought  by  the  traders  to  the  rendezvous  for  sale 
to  the  trappers  and  hunters,  although  of  the  most  inferior 
quality,  were  sold  at  enormously  high  prices. 

Coffee,  by  the  pint-cup,  which  was  the  usual  measure  for 
everything,  cost  from  a  dollar  and  twenty  cents  to  three 
dollars ;  tobacco  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  plug ;  alcohol  from 
two  dollars  to  five  dollars  a  pint;  gunpowder  one  dollar 
and  sixty  cents  a  pint-cup,  and  all  other  articles  at  pro- 
portionably  exorbitant  rates. 

The  annual  gatherings  of  the  trappers  at  the  rendezvous 
were  often  the  scene  of  bloody  duels ;  for  over  their  cups 
and  cards  no  men  were  more  quarrelsome  than  the  old- 
time  mountaineers.  Rifles  at  twenty  paces  settled  all 
difficulties,  and,  as  may  be  imagined,  the  fall  of  one  or 
the  other  of  the  combatants  was  certain,  or,  as  sometimes 
happened,  both  fell  at  the  word  "  Fire !  " 

The  trapper's  visits  to  the  Mexican  settlements,  or  to 
the  lodges  of  a  tribe  of  Indians,  for  the  purpose  of  trading, 
often  resulted  in  his  returning  to  his  quiet  camp  with  a 
woman  to  grace  his  solitary  home,  the  loving  and  lonely 
couple  as  devoted  to  each  other  in  the  midst  of  blood- 
thirsty enemies,  howling  wolves,  and  panthers,  as  if  they 
were  in  some  quiet  country  village. 

The  easy  manners  of  the  harum-scarum,  reckless  trap- 
pers at  the  rendezvous,  and  the  simple,  unsuspecting 
hearts  of  those  nymphs  of  the  mountains,  the  squaws, 
caused  their  husbands  to  be  very  jealous  of  the  attentions 
bestowed  upon  them  by  strangers.  Often  serious  difficul- 
ties arose,  in  the  course  of  which  the  poor  wife  received 
a  severe  whipping  with  the  knot  of  a  lariat,  or  no  very 
light  lodge-poling  at  the  hands  of  her  imperious  sover- 


BENT'S  FOKTS  397 

eign.  Sometimes  the  affair  ended  in  a  more  tragical  way 
than  a  mere  beating,  not  infrequently  the  gallant  paying 
the  penalty  of  his  interference  with  his  life. 

Garrard,  a  traveller  on  the  great  plains  and  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains  half  a  century  ago,  from  whose  excel- 
lent diary  I  have  frequently  quoted,  passed  many  days 
and  nights  at  Bent's  Fort  fifty  years  ago,  and  his  quaint 
description  of  life  there  in  that  remote  period  of  the 
extreme  frontier  is  very  amusing.  Its  truth  has  often 
been  confirmed  by  Uncle  John  Smith,  who  was  my  guide 
and  interpreter  in  the  Indian  expedition  of  1868-69,  only 
two  decades  after  Garrard's  experience. 

Rosalie,  a  half-breed  French  and  Indian  squaw,  wife  of 
the  carpenter,  and  Charlotte,  the  culinary  divinity,  were, 
as  a  Missouri  teamster  remarked,  "  the  only  female  women 
here."  They  were  nightly  led  to  the  floor  to  trip  the  light 
fantastic  toe,  and  swung  rudely  or  gently  in  the  mazes  of 
the  contra-dance,  but  such  a  medley  of  steps  is  seldom  seen 
out  of  the  mountains,  —  the  halting,  irregular  march  of 
the  war-dance,  the  slipping  gallopade,  the  boisterous  pitch- 
ing of  the  Missouri  backwoodsman,  and  the  more  nice  gyra- 
tions of  the  Frenchman ;  for  all,  irrespective  of  rank,  age, 
or  colour,  went  pell-mell  into  the  excitement,  in  a  manner 
that  would  have  rendered  a  leveller  of  aristocracies  and 
select  companies  frantic  with  delight.  And  the  airs 
assumed  by  the  fair  ones,  more  particularly  Charlotte, 
who  took  pattern  from  life  in  the  States,  were  amusing. 
She  acted  her  part  to  perfection;  she  was- the  centre  of 
attraction,  the  belle  of  the  evening.  She  treated  the 
suitors  for  the  pleasure  of  the  next  set  with  becoming  ease 
and  suavity  of  manner ;  she  knew  her  worth,  and  managed 
accordingly.  When  the  favoured  gallant  stood  by  her  side 
waiting  for  the  rudely  scraped  tune  from  a  screeching 
fiddle,  satisfaction,  joy,  and  triumph  over  his  rivals  were 
pictured  on  his  radiant  face. 


398  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

James  Hobbs,  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  onee 
gave  me  a  graphic  description  of  the  annual  feast  of  the 
Comanches,  Cheyennes,  and  Arapahoes,  which  always 
took  place  at  Big  Timbers,  near  Fort  William. 

Hobbs  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  Old  Wolf,  the 
chief  of  the  Comanches,  a  really  beautiful  Indian  girl, 
with  whom  he  lived  faithfully  many  years.  In  the  early 
summer  of  1835,  he  went  with  his  father-in-law  and  the 
rest  of  the  tribe  to  the  great  feast  of  that  season.  He 
stated  that  on  that  occasion  there  were  forty  thousand 
Indians  assembled,  and  consequently  large  hunting  par- 
ties were  sent  out  daily  to  procure  food  for  such  a  vast 
host.  The  entertainment  was  kept  up  for  fifteen  days, 
enlivened  by  horse  races,  foot  races,  and  playing  ball.  In 
these  races  the  tribes  would  bet  their  horses  on  the  result, 
the  Comanches  generally  winning,  for  they  are  the  best 
riders  in  the  world.  By  the  time  the  feast  was  ended,  the 
Arapahoes  and  Cheyennes  usually  found  themselves  afoot, 
but  Old  Wolf,  who  was  a  generous  fellow,  always  gave 
them  back  enough  animals  to  get  home  with. 

The  game  of  ball  was  played  with  crooked  sticks,  and 
is  very  much  like  the  American  boys'  "shinny."  The 
participants  are  dressed  in  a  simple  breech-cloth  and 
moccasins.  It  is  played  with  great  enthusiasm  and 
affords  much  amusement.  ^ 

At  these  annual  feasts  a  council  of  the  great  chiefs  of 
the  three  tribes  is  always  held,  and  at  the  one  during 
the  season  referred  to,  Hobbs  said  the  Cheyenne  chiefs 
wanted  Old  Wolf  to  visit  Bent's  Fort,  where  he  had 
never  been.  Upon  the  arrival  of  the  delegation  there, 
it  was  heartily  welcomed  b}7  all  the  famous  men  who 
happened  to  be  at  the  place,  among  whom  were  Kit 
Carson,  Old  John  Smith,  and  several  noted  trappers. 
Whiskey  occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the  rejoicing, 
and  "I  found  it  hard  work,"  said  Hobbs,  "to  stand  the 


BENT'S  FORTS  399 

many  toasts  drank  to  my  good  health."  The  whole  party, 
including  Old  Wolf  and  his  companion  the  Cheyenne 
chief,  got  very  much  elated,  and  every  person  in  the 
fort  smelt  whiskey,  if  they  did  not  get  their  feet  tangled 
with  it. 

About  midnight  a  messenger  came  inside,  reporting 
that  a  thousand  Comanche  warriors  were  gathering  around 
the  fort.  They  demanded  their  leaders,  fearing  treachery, 
and  desired  to  know  why  their  chief  had  not  returned. 
Hobbs  went  out  and  explained  that  he  was  safe ;  but  they 
insisted  on  seeing  him,  so  he  and  Hobbs  showed  them- 
selves to  the  assembled  Indians,  and  Old  Wolf  made  a 
speech,  telling  them  that  he  and  the  Cheyenne  chief  were 
among  good  friends  to  the  Indians,  and  presents  would 
be  given  to  them  the  next  morning.  The  warriors  were 
pacified  with  these  assurances,  though  they  did  not  leave 
the  vicinity  of  the  fort. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Hobbs  was  ransomed  by  Colonel 
Bent,  who  gave  Old  Wolf,  for  him,  six  yards  of  red 
flannel,  a  pound  of  tobacco,  and  an  ounce  of  beads. 

The  chief  was  taken  in  charge  by  a  lieutenant,  who 
showed  him  all  over  the  fort,  letting  him  see  the  rifle  port- 
holes, and  explaining  how  the  place  could  stand  a  siege 
against  a  thousand  Indians.  Finally,  he  was  taken  out  on 
the  parapet,v  where  there  was  a  six-pounder  at  each  angle. 
The  old  savage  inquired  how  they  could  shoot  such  a 
thing,  and  at  Hobbs'  request,  a  blank  cartridge  was  put 
in  the  piece  and  fired.  Old  Wolf  sprang  back  in  amaze- 
ment, and  the  Indians  on  the  outside,  under  the  walls, 
knowing  nothing  of  what  was  going  on,  ran  away  as  fast 
as  their  legs  could  carry  them,  convinced  that  their  chief 
must  be  dead  now  and  their  own  safety  dependent  upon 
flight.  Old  Wolf  and  Hobbs  sprang  upon  the  wall  and 
signalled  and  shouted  to  them,  and  they  returned,  asking 
in  great  astonishment  what  kind  of  a  monstrous  gun  it  was. 


400  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

About  noon  trading  commenced.  The  Indians  wished 
to  come  into  the  fort,  but  Bent  would  not  let  any  enter 
but  the  chiefs.  At  the  back  door  the  colonel  displayed 
his  goods,  and  the  Indians  brought  forward  their  ponies, 
buffalo-robes,  deer  and  other  skins,  which  they  traded  for 
tobacco,  beads,  calico,  flannel,  knives,  spoons,  whistles, 
jews '-harps,  etc. 

Whiskey  was  sold  to  them  the  first  day,  but  as  it  caused 
several  fights  among  them  before  night,  Bent  stopped  its 
sale,  at  Hobbs'  suggestion  and  with  Old  Wolf's  consent. 
Indians,  when  they  get  drunk,  do  not  waste  time  by 
fighting  with  fists,  like  white  men,  but  use  knives  and 
tomahawks ;  so  that  a  general  scrimmage  is  a  serious 
affair.  Two  or  three  deaths  resulted  the  first  day,  and 
there  would  have  been  many  more  if  the  sale  of  whiskey 
had  not  been  stopped. 

The  trading  continued  for  eight  days,  and  Colonel 
Bent  reaped  a  rich  harvest  of  what  he  could  turn  into 
gold  -at  St.  Louis.  Old  Wolf  slept  in  the  fort  each 
night  except  one  during  that  time,  and  every  time  his 
warriors  aroused  him  about  twelve  o'clock  and  com- 
pelled him  to  show  himself  on  the  walls  to  satisfy  them 
of  his  safety. 

About  a  hundred  trappers  were  in  the  employ  of  Bent 
and  his  partners.  Sometimes  one-half  of  the  company 
were  off  on  a  hunt,  leaving  but  a  small  force  at  the  fort 
for  its  protection,  but  with  the  small  battery  there  its 
defence  was  considered  sufficient. 

One  day  a  trapping  party,  consisting  of  Kit  Carson, 
"Peg-leg"  Smith,  and  James  Hobbs,  together  with  some 
Shawnee  Indians,  all  under  the  lead  of  Carson,  started 
out  from  Bent's  Fort  for  the  Picketwire  to  trap  beaver. 

Grizzlies  were  very  abundant  in  that  region  then,  and 
one  of  the  party,  named  Mclntire,  having  killed  an  elk 
the  evening  before,  said  to  Hobbs  that  they  might  stand 


BENT'S   FORTS  401 

a  good  chance  to  find  a  grizzly  by  the  elk  he  had  shot  but 
had  not  brought  in.  Hobbs  said  that  he  was  willing  to 
go  with  him,  but  as  Mclntire  was  a  very  green  man  in  the 
mountains,  Hobbs  had  some  doubts  of  depending  on  him 
in  case  of  an  attack  by  a  grizzly  bear. 

The  two  men  left  for  the  ravine  in  which  Mclntire  had 
killed  the  elk  very  early  in  the  morning,  taking  with  them 
tomahawks,  hunting-knives,  rifles,  and  a  good  dog.  On 
arriving  at  the  ravine,  Hobbs  told  Mclntire  to  cross  over 
to  the  other  side  and  climb  the  hill,  but  on  no  account  to 
go  down  into  the  ravine,  as  a  grizzly  is  more  dangerous 
when  he  has  a  man  on  the  downhill  side.  Hobbs  then 
went  to  where  he  thought  the  elk  might  be  if  he  had  died 
by  the  bank  of  the  stream ;  but  as  soon  as  he  came  near  the 
water,  he  saw  that  a  large  grizzly  had  got  there  before 
him,  having  scented  the  animal,  and  was  already  making 
his  breakfast. 

The  bear  was  in  thick,  scrubby  oak  brush,  and  Hobbs, 
making  his  dog  lie  down,  crawled  behind  a  rock  to  get  a 
favourable  shot  at  the  beast.  He  drew  a  bead  on  him  and 
fired,  but  the  bear  only  snarled  at  the  wound  made  by  the 
ball  and  started  tearing  through  the  brush,  biting  furi- 
ously at  it  as  he  went.  Hobbs  reloaded  his  rifle  carefully, 
and  as  quickly  as  he  could,  in  order  to  get  a  second  shot ; 
but,  to  his  amazement,  he  saw  the  bear  rushing  down 
the  ravine  chasing  Mclntire,  who  was  only  about  ten  feet 
in  advance  of  the  enraged  beast,  running  for  his  life,  and 
making  as  much  noise  as  a  mad  bull.  He  was  terribly 
scared,  and  Hobbs  hastened  to  his  rescue,  first  sending 
his  dog  ahead. 

Just  as  the  dog  reached  the  bear,  Mclntire  darted  behind 
a  tree  and  flung  his  hat  in  the  bear's  face,  at  the  same 
time  sticking  his  rifle  toward  him.  The  old  grizzly  seized 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  in  his  teeth,  and,  as  it  was  loaded 
and  cocked,  it  either  went  off  accidentally  or  otherwise 

2  D 


402 


THE    OLD    SANTA   FE    TRAIL 


and  blew  the  bear's  head  open,  just  as  the  dog  had  fastened 
on  his  hindquarters.  Hobbs  ran  to  the  assistance  of  his 
comrade  with  all  haste,  but  he  was  out  of  danger  and  had 
sat  down  a  few  rods  away,  with  his  face  as  white  as  a 
sheet,  a  badly  frightened  man. 

After  that  fearful  scare,  Mclntire  would  cook  or  do  any- 
thing, but  said  he  never  intended  to  make  a  business  of 
bear-hunting;  he  had  only  wished  for  one  adventure,  and 
this  one  had  satisfied  him. 


Dentj'forfi- 


CHAPTER   XX 

PAWNEE    ROCK A  DEBATABLE    REGION  OF  THE    INDIAN    TRIBES 

THE   MOST    DANGEROUS    POINT    ON   THE   CENTRAL    PLAINS  IN 

THE    DAYS   OF   THE    EARLY    SANTA   FE   TRADE RECEIVED    ITS 

NAME    IN    A    BAPTISM    OF     BLOOD  BATTLE-GROUND     OF    THE 

PAWNEES  AND  CHEYENNES OLD  GRAVES  ON  THE  SUMMIT  OF 

THE    ROCK KIT    CARSON'S    FIRST    FIGHT   AT  THE    ROCK  WITH 

THE     PAWNEES KILLS     HIS     MULE     BY     MISTAKE COLONEL 

ST.   VRAIN'S    BRILLIANT    CHARGE DEFEAT    OF    THE    SAVAGES 

THE    TRAPPERS'  TERRIBLE    BATTLE  WITH    THE  PAWNEES 

THE    MASSACRE    AT    COW    CREEK 


fbhweeftbcA- 


HAT  portion  of  the  great 
central  plains  which  radi- 
ates from  Pawnee  Rock, 
including  the  Big  Bend 
of  the  Arkansas,  thirteen 
miles  distant,  where  that 
river  makes  a  sudden 
sweep  to  the  southeast, 
and  the  beautiful  valley 
of  the  Walnut,  in  all  its 
vast  area  of  more  than  a 
million  square  acres,  was 
from  time  immemorial  a 
sort  of  debatable  land, 
occupied  by  none  of  the 
Indian  tribes,  but  claimed 
by  all  to  hunt  in ;  for  it 
was  a  famous  pasturage  of  the  buffalo. 

None  of  the  various  bands  had  the  temerity  to  attempt 

403 


404  THE   OLD   SANTA  EE   TRAIL 

its  permanent  occupancy ;  for  whenever  hostile  tribes  met 
there,  which  was  of  frequent  occurrence,  in  their  annual 
hunt  for  their  winter's  supply  of  meat,  a  bloody  battle 
was  certain  to  ensue.  The  region  referred  to  has  been 
the  scene  of  more  sanguinary  conflicts  between  the  differ- 
ent Indians  of  the  plains,  perhaps,  than  any  other  portion 
of  the  continent.  Particularly  was  it  the  arena  of  war 
to  the  death,  when  the  Pawnees  met  their  hereditary 
enemies,  the  Cheyennes. 

Pawnee  Rock  was  a  spot  well  calculated  by  nature  to 
form,  as  it  has  done,  an  important  rendezvous  and  ambus- 
cade for  the  prowling  savages  of  the  prairies,  and  often 
afforded  them,  especially  the  once  powerful  and  murder- 
ous Pawnees  whose  name  it  perpetuates,  a  pleasant  little 
retreat  or  eyrie  from  which  to  watch  the  passing  Santa  Fe 
traders,  and  dash  down  upon  them  like  hawks,  to  carry 
off  their  plunder  and  their  scalps. 

Through  this  once  dangerous  region,  close  to  the  silent 
Arkansas,  and  running  under  the  very  shadow  of  the 
rock,  the  Old  Trail  wound  its  course.  Now,  at  this  point, 
it  is  the  actual  road-bed  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and 
Santa  Fe  Railroad,  so  strangely  are  the  past  and  present 
transcontinental  highways  connected  here. 

Who,  among  bearded  and  grizzled  old  fellows  like  my- 
self, has  forgotten  that  most  sensational  of  all  the  mis- 
erably executed  illustrations  in  the  geographies  of  fifty 
years  ago,  "  The  Santa  Fe  Traders  attacked  by  Indians  "  ? 
The  picture  located  the  scene  of  the  fight  at  Pawnee  Rock, 
which  formed  a  sort  of  nondescript  shadow  in  the  back- 
ground of  a  crudely  drawn  representation  of  the  dangers 
of  the  Trail. 

If  this  once  giant  sentinel1  of  the  plains  might  speak, 

1  Pawnee  Rock  is  no  longer  conspicuous.  Its  material  has  been  torn 
away  by  both  the  railroad  and  the  settlers  in  the  vicinity,  to  build  founda- 
tions for  water-tanks,  in  the  one  instance,  and  for  the  construction  of  their 


PAWNEE   ROCK  405 

what  a  story  it  could  tell  of  the  events  that  have  happened 
on  the  beautiful  prairie  stretching  out  for  miles  at  its  feet! 

In  the  early  fall,  when  the  rock  was  wrapped  in  the 
soft  amber  haze  which  is  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
the  incomparable  Indian  summer  on  the  plains;  or  in  the 
spring,  when  the  mirage  weaves  its  mysterious  shapes, 
it  loomed  up  in  the  landscape  as  if  it  were  a  huge  moun- 
tain, and  to  the  inexperienced  eye  appeared  as  if  it  were 
the  abrupt  ending  of  a  well-defined  range.  But  when  the 
frost  came,  and  the  mists  were  dispelled ;  when  the  thin 
fringe  of  timber  on  the  Walnut,  a  few  miles  distant,  had 
doffed  its  emerald  mantle,  and  the  grass  had  grown  yellow 
and  rusty,  then  in  the  golden  sunlight  of  winter,  the  rock 
sank  down  to  its  normal  proportions,  and  cut  the  clear 
blue  of  the  sky  with  sharply  marked  lines. 

In  the  days  when  the  Santa  Fe  trade  was  at  its  height, 
the  Pawnees  were  the  most  formidable  tribe  on  the  eastern 
central  plains,  and  the  freighters  and  trappers  rarely  es- 
caped a  skirmish  with  them  either  at  the  crossing  of  the 
Walnut,  Pawnee  Rock,  the  Fork  of  the  Pawnee,  or  at 
Little  and  Big  Coon  creeks.  To-day  what  is  left  of  the  his- 
toric hill  looks  down  only  upon  peaceful  homes  and  fruitful 
fields,  whereas  for  hundreds  of  years  it  witnessed  nothing 
but  battle  and  death,  and  almost  every  yard  of  brown  sod 
at  its  base  covered  a  skeleton.  In  place  of  the  horrid 
yell  of  the  infuriated  savage,  as  he  wrenched  off  the  reek- 
ing scalp  of  his  victim,  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive 
and  the  pleasant  whirr  of  the  reaping-machine  is  heard; 
where  the  death-cry  of  the  painted  warrior  rang  mournfully 
over  the  silent  prairie,  the  waving  grain  is  singing  in 
beautiful  rhythm  as  it  bows  to  the  summer  breeze. 

Pawnee  Rock  received  its  name  in  a  baptism  of  blood, 

houses,  barns,  and  sheds,  in  the  other.  Nothing  remains  of  the  once 
famous  landmark  ;  its  site  is  occupied  as  a  cattle  corral  by  the  owner  of 
the  claim  in  which  it  is  included. 


406  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

but  there  are  many  versions  as  to  the  time  and  sponsors. 
It  was  there  that  Kit  Carson  killed  his  first  Indian,  and 
from  that  fight,  as  he  told  me  himself,  the  broken  mass  of 
red  sandstone  was  given  its  distinctive  title. 

It  was  late  in  the  spring  of  1826 ;  Kit  was  then  a  mere 
boy,  only  seventeen  years  old,  and  as  green  as  any  boy  of 
his  age  who  had  never  been  forty  miles  from  the  place 
where  he  was  born.  Colonel  Ceran  St.  Vrain,  then  a 
prominent  agent  of  one  of  the  great  fur  companies,  was 
fitting  out  an  expedition  destined  for  the  far-off  Rocky 
Mountains,  the  members  of  which,  all  trappers,  were  to 
obtain  the  skins  of  the  buffalo,  beaver,  otter,  mink,  and 
other  valuable  fur-bearing  animals  that  then  roamed  in 
immense  numbers  on  the  vast  plains  or  in  the  hills,  and 
were  also  to  trade  with  the  various  tribes  of  Indians  on  the 
borders  of  Mexico. 

Carson  joined  this  expedition,  which  was  composed  of 
twenty-six  mule  wagons,  some  loose  stock,  and  forty-two 
men.  The  boy  was  hired  to  help  drive  the  extra  animals, 
hunt  game,  stand  guard,  and  to  make  himself  generally 
useful,  which,  of  course,  included  fighting  Indians  if  any 
were  met  with  on  the  long  route. 

The  expedition  left  Fort  Osage  one  bright  morning  in 
May  in  excellent  spirits,  and  in  a  few  hours  turned  ab- 
ruptly to  the  west  on  the  broad  Trail  to  the  mountains. 
The  great  plains  in  those  early  days  were  solitary  and 
desolate  beyond  the  power  of  description ;  the  Arkansas 
River  sluggishly  followed  the  tortuous  windings  of  its 
treeless  banks  with  a  placidness  that  was  awful  in  its  very 
silence  ;  and  whoso  traced  the  wanderings  of  that  stream 
with  no  companion  but  his  own  thoughts,  realized  in  all 
its  intensity  the  depth  of  solitude  from  which  Robinson 
Crusoe  suffered  on  his  lonely  island.  Illimitable  as  the 
ocean,  the  weary  waste  stretched  away  until  lost  in  the 
purple  of  the  horizon,  and  the  mirage  created  weird  pictures 


PAWNEE   ROCK  407 

in  the  landscape,  distorted  distances  and  objects  which 
continually  annoyed  and  deceived.  Despite  its  loneliness, 
however,  there  was  then,  and  ever  has  been  for  many  men, 
an  infatuation  for  those  majestic  prairies  that  once  experi- 
enced is  never  lost,  and  it  came  to  the  boyish  heart  of  Kit, 
who  left  them  but  with  life,  and  full  of  years. 

There  was  not  much  variation  in  the  eternal  sameness 
of  thing's  during-  the  first  two  weeks,  as  the  little  train 
moved  day  after  day  through  the  wilderness  of  grass,  its 
ever-rattling  wheels  only  intensifying  the  surrounding 
monotony.  Occasionally,  however,  a  herd  of  buffalo  was 
discovered  in  the  distance,  their  brown,  shaggy  sides  con- 
trasting with  the  never-ending  sea  of  verdure  around 
them.  Then  young  Kit,  and  two  or  three  others  of  the 
party  who  were  detailed  to  supply  the  teamsters  and  trap- 
pers with  meat,  would  ride  out  after  them  on  the  best  of 
the  extra  horses  which  were  always  kept  saddled  and  tied 
together  behind  the  last  wagon  for  services  of  this  kind. 
Kit,  who  was  already  an  excellent  horseman  and  a  splen- 
did shot  with  the  rifle,  would  soon  overtake  them,  and 
topple  one  after  another  of  their  huge  fat  carcasses  over 
on  the  prairie  until  half  a  dozen  or  more  were  lying  dead. 
The  tender  humps,  tongues,  and  other  choice  portions 
were  then  cut  out  and  put  in  a  wagon  which  had  by 
that  time  reached  them  from  the  train,  and  the  expedition 
rolled  on. 

So  they  marched  for  about  three  weeks,  when  they 
arrived  at  the  crossing  of  the  Walnut,  where  they  saw 
the  first  signs  of  Indians.  They  had  halted  for  that  day ; 
the  mules  were  unharnessed,  the  camp-fires  lighted,  and  the 
men  just  about  to  indulge  in  their  refreshing  coffee,  when 
suddenly  half  a  dozen  Pawnees,  mounted  on  their  ponies, 
hideously  painted  and  uttering  the  most  demoniacal  yells, 
rushed  out  of  the  tall  grass  on  the  river-bottom,  where 
they    had    been    ambushed,    and    swinging    their    buffalo- 


408  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

robes,  attempted  to  stampede  the  herd  picketed  near  the 
camp.  The  whole  party  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant 
with  rifles  in  hand,  and  all  the  savages  got  for  their  trouble 
were  a  few  well-deserved  shots  as  they  hurriedly  scampered 
back  to  the  river  and  over  into  the  sand  hills  on  the  other 
side,  soon  to  be  out  of  sight. 

The  expedition  travelled  sixteen  miles  next  day,  and 
camped  at  Pawnee  Rock,  where,  after  the  experience  of 
the  evening  before,  every  precaution  was  taken  to  pre- 
vent a  surprise  bjr  the  savages.  The  wagons  were  formed 
into  a  corral,  so  that  the  animals  could  be  secured  in  the 
event  of  a  prolonged  fight ;  the  guards  were  drilled 
by  the  colonel,  and  every  man  slept  with  his  rifle  for  a 
bed-fellow,  for  the  old  trappers  knew  that  the  Indians 
would  never  remain  satisfied  with  their  defeat  on  the 
Walnut,  but  would  seize  the  first  favourable  opportunity  to 
renew  their  attack. 

At  dark  the  sentinels  were  placed  in  position,  and  to 
young  Kit  fell  the  important  post  immediately  in  front  of 
the  south  face  of  the  Rock,  nearly  two  hundred  yards  from 
the  corral;  the  others  being  at  prominent  points  on  top,  and 
on  the  open  prairie  on  either  side.  All  who  were  not  on 
duty  had  long  since  been  snoring  heavily,  rolled  up  in  their 
blankets  and  buffalo-robes,  when  at  about  half-past- eleven, 
one  of  the  guard  gave  the  alarm,  "Indians  !  "  and  ran  the 
mules  that  were  nearest  him  into  the  corral.  In  a  moment 
the  whole  company  turned  out  at  the  report  of  a  rifle 
ringing  on  the  clear  night  air,  coming  from  the  direction 
of  the  rock.  The  men  had  gathered  at  the  opening  to  the 
corral,  waiting  for  developments,  when  Kit  came  running 
in,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  near  enough,  the  colonel  asked 
him  whether  he  had  seen  any  Indians.  "Yes,"  Kit 
replied,  "  I  killed  one  of  the  red  devils  ;  I  saw  him  fall !  " 

The  alarm  proved  to  be  false  ;  there  was  no  further  dis- 
turbance that  night,  so  the  party  returned  to  their  beds, 


PAWNEE   ROCK  409 

and  the  sentinels  to  their  several  posts,  Kit  of  course  to  his 
place  in  front  of  the  Rock. 

Early  the  next  morning,  before  breakfast  even,  all  were 
so  anxious  to  see  Kit's  dead  Indian,  that  they  went  out 
en  masse  to  where  he  was  still  stationed,  and  instead 
of  finding  a  painted  Pawnee,  as  was  expected,  they  found 
the  boy's  riding  mule  dead,  shot  right  through  the 
head. 

Kit  felt  terribly  mortified  over  his  ridiculous  blunder,  and 
it  was  a  long  time  before  he  heard  the  last  of  his  midnight 
adventure  and  his  raid  on  his  own  mule.  But  he  always 
liked  to  tell  the  "  balance  of  the  story,"  as  he  termed  it, 
and  this  is  his  version :  "  I  had  not  slept  any  the  night 
before,  for  I  stayed  awake  watching  to  get  a  shot  at  the 
Pawnees  that  tried  to  stampede  our  animals,  expecting 
they  would  return  ;  and  I  hadn't  caught  a  wink  all  day, 
as  I  was  out  buffalo  hunting,  so  I  was  awfully  tired  and 
sleepy  when  we  arrived  at  Pawnee  Rock  that  evening, 
and  when  I  was  posted  at  my  place  at  night,  I  must  have 
gone  to  sleep  leaning  against  the  rocks  ;  at  any  rate,  I  was 
wide  enough  awake  when  the  cry  of  Indians  was  given  by 
one  of  the  guard.  I  had  picketed  my  mule  about  twenty 
steps  from  where  I  stood,  and  I  presume  he  had  been  lying 
down  ;  all  I  remember  is  that  the  first  thing  I  saw  after 
the  alarm  was  something  rising  up  out  of  the  grass,  which 
I  thought  was  an  Indian.  I  pulled  the  trigger ;  it  was  a 
centre  shot,  and  I  don't  believe  the  mule  ever  kicked  after 
he  was  hit !  " 

The  next  morning  about  daylight,  a  band  of  Pawnees 
attacked  the  train  in  earnest,  and  kept  the  little  command 
busy  all  that  day,  the  next  night,  and  until  the  following 
midnight,  nearly  three  whole  days,  the  mules  all  the  time 
being  shut  in  the  corral  without  food  or  water.  At  mid- 
night of  the  second  day  the  colonel  ordered  the  men  to 
hitch  up  and  attempt  to  drive  on  to  the  crossing  of  Pawnee 


410  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

Fork,  thirteen  miles  distant.1  They  succeeded  in  getting 
there,  fighting  their  way  without  the  loss  of  any  of  their 
men  or  animals.  The  Trail  crossed  the  creek  in  the  shape 
of  a  horseshoe,  or  rather,  in  consequence  of  the  double 
bend  of  the  stream  as  it  empties  into  the  Arkansas,  the 
road  crossed  it  twice.  In  making  this  passage,  dangerous 
on  account  of  its  crookedness,  Kit  said  many  of  the 
wagons  were  badly  mashed  up ;  for  the  mules  were  so 
thirsty  that  their  drivers  could  not  control  them.  The 
train  was  hardly  strung  out  on  the  opposite  bank  when 
the  Indians  poured  in  a  volley  of  bullets  and  a  shower  of 
arrows  from  both  sides  of  the  Trail ;  but  before  they  could 
load  and  fire  again,  a  terrific  charge  was  on  them,  led  by 
Colonel  St.  Vrain  and  Carson.  It  required  only  a  few 
moments  more  to  clean  out  the  persistent  savages,  and 
the  train  went  on.  During  the  whole  fight  the  little  party 
lost  four  men  killed  and  seven  wounded,  and  eleven  mules 
killed  (not  counting  Kit's),  and  twenty  badly  wounded. 

A  great  many  years  ago,  very  early  in  the  days  of  the 
trade  with  New  Mexico,  seven  Americans  were  surprised 
by  a  large  band  of  Pawnees  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Rock 
and  were  compelled  to  retreat  to  it  for  safety.  There, 
without  water,  and  with  but  a  small  quantity  of  pro- 
visions, they  were  besieged  by  their  blood-thirsty  foes  for 
two  days,  when  a  party  of  traders  coming  on  the  Trail 
relieved  them  from  their  perilous  situation  and  the  pres- 
ence of  their  enemy.  There  were  several  graves  on  its 
summit  when  I  first  saw  Pawnee  Rock;  but  whether  they 
contained  the  bones  of  savages  or  those  of  white  men,  I 
do  not  know. 

1  The  crossing  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  at  Pawnee  Fork  is  now  within 
the  corporate  limits  of  the  pretty  little  town  of  Lamed,  the  county-seat 
of  Pawnee  County.  The  tourist  from  his  car-window  "may  look  right  down 
upon  one  of  the  worst  places  for  Indians  that  there  was  in  those  days  of 
the  commerce  of  the  prairies,  as  the  road  crosses  the  stream  at  the  exact 
spot  where  the  Trail  crossed  it. 


PAWNEE   ROCK  411 

Carson  related  to  me  another  terrible  fight  that  took 
place  at  the  rock,  when  he  first  became  a  trapper.  He 
was  not  a  participant,  but  knew  the  parties  well.  About 
twenty-nine  years  ago,  Kit,  Jack  Henderson,  who  was 
agent  for  the  Ute  Indians,  Lucien  B.  Maxwell,  Gen- 
eral Carleton  and  myself  were  camped  halfway  up  the 
rugged  sides  of  Old  Baldy,  in  the  Raton  Range.  The 
night  was  intensely  cold,  although  in  midsummer,  and  we 
were  huddled  around  a  little  fire  of  pine  knots,  more  than 
seven  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  close  to  the 
snow  limit. 

Kit,  or  "  the  General,"  as  every  one  called  him,  was  in  a 
good  humour  for  talking,  and  we  naturally  took  advantage 
of  this  to  draw  him  out;  for  usually  he  was  the  most  reti- 
cent of  men  in  relating  his  own  exploits.  A  casual  remark 
made  by  Maxwell  opened  Carson's  mouth,  and  he  said  he 
remembered  one  of  the  "  worst  difficults "  a  man  ever 
got  into.1  So  he  made  a  fresh  corn-shuck  cigarette,  and 
related  the  following ;  but  the  names  of  the  old  trappers 
who  were  the  principals  in  the  fight  I  have  unfortunately 
forgotten. 

Two  men  had  been  trapping  in  the  Powder  River  coun- 
try during  one  winter  with  unusually  good  luck,  and 
they  got  an  early  start  with  their  furs,  which  they  were 
going  to  take  to  Weston,  on  the  Missouri,  one  of  the 
principal  trading  points  in  those  days.  They  walked  the 
whole  distance,  driving  their  pack-mules  before  them,  and 
experienced  no  trouble  until  they  struck  the  Arkansas 
valley  at  Pawnee  Rock.  There  they  were  intercepted 
by  a  war-party  of  about  sixty  Pawnees.  Both  of  the 
trappers  were  notoriously  brave  and  both  dead  shots. 
Before  they  arrived  at  the  rock,  to  which  they  were 
finally  driven,  they  killed   two   of  the   Indians,  and  had 

1  This  was  a  favourite  expression  of  his  whenever  he  referred  to  any 
trouble  witli  the  Indians. 


412  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

not  themselves  received  a  scratch.  They  had  plenty  of 
powder,  a  pouch  full  of  balls  each,  and  two  good  rifles. 
They  also  had  a  couple  of  jack-rabbits  for  food  in  case  of 
a  siege,  and  the  perpendicular  walls  of  the  front  of  the 
rock  made  them  a  natural  fortification,  an  almost  impreg- 
nable one  against  Indians. 

They  succeeded  in  securely  picketing  their  animals  at 
the  side  of  the  rock,  where  they  could  protect  them  by 
their  unerring  rifles  from  being  stampeded.  After  the 
Pawnees  had  "  treed  "  the  two  trappers  on  the  rock,  they 
picked  up  their  dead,  and  packed  them  off  to  their  camp 
at  the  mouth  of  a  little  ravine  a  short  distance  away. 
In  a  few  moments  back  they  all  came,  mounted  on  fast 
ponies,  with  their  war-paint  and  other  fixings  on,  ready 
to  renew  the  fight.  They  commenced  to  circle  around  the 
place,  coming  closer,  Indian  fashion,  every  time,  until  the)7 
got  within  easy  rifle-range,  when  they  slung  themselves 
on  the  opposite  sides  of  their  horses,  and  in  that  position 
opened  fire.  Their  arrows  fell  like  a  hailstorm,  but  as 
good  luck  would  have  it,  none  of  them  struck,  and  the  balls 
from  their  rifles  were  wild,  as  the  Indians  in  those  days  were 
not  very  good  shots  ;  the  rifle  was  a  new  weapon  to  them. 
The  trappers  at  first  were  afraid  the  savages  would  surely 
try  to  kill  the  mules,  but  soon  reflected  that  the  Indians 
believed  they  had  the  "  dead-wood "  on  them,  and  the 
mules  would  come  handy  after  they  had  been  scalped ;  so 
they  felt  satisfied  their  animals  were  safe  for  a  while  any- 
how. The  men  were  taking  in  all  the  chances,  however; 
both  kept  their  eyes  skinned,  and  whenever  one  of  them 
saw  a  stray  leg  or  head,  he  drew  a  bead  on  it  and  when  he 
pulled  the  trigger,  its  owner  tumbled  over  with  a  yell  of 
rage  from  his  companions. 

Whenever  the  savages  attempted  to  carry  off  their  dead,1 

1  Indians  will  risk  the  lives  of  a  dozen  of  their  best  warriors  to  prevent 
the  body  of  any  one  of  their  number  from  falling  into  the  white  man's 


$  3  * 


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,        ■            .: 

1 

■: 

the  i         ■.         I      ■    '      e  want 
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mm  •  wi  '      ■  ;  '-■ 


' 

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1 

' 

■ ,    ;  . 

A   CITADEL   OF- THE   PLAINS 


PAWNEE   ROCK  413 

the  two  trappers  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  and 
poured  in  their  shots  every  time  with  telling  effect. 

By  this  time  night  had  fallen,  and  the  Indians  did  not 
seem  anxious  to  renew  the  fight  after  dark;  but  they  kept 
their  mounted  patrols  on  every  side  of  the  rock,  at  a 
respectable  distance  from  such  dead  shots,  watching  to 
prevent  the  escape  of  the  besieged.  As  they  were  hungry, 
one  of  the  men  went  down  under  cover  of  the  darkness  to 
get  a  few  buffalo-chips  with  which  to  cook  their  rabbit, 
and  to  change  the  animals  to  where  they  could  get  fresh 
grass.  He  returned  safely  to  the  summit  of  the  rock, 
where  a  little  fire  was  made  and  their  supper  prepared. 
They  had  to  go  without  water  all  the  time,  and  so  did 
the  mules;  the  men  did  not  mind  the  want  of  it  them- 
selves, but  they  could  not  help  pitying  their  poor  animals 
that  had  had  none  since  they  left  camp  early  that  morn- 
ing. It  was  no  use  to  worry,  though;  the  nearest  water 
was  at  the  river,  and  it  would  have  been  certain  death  to 
have  attempted  to  go  there  unless  the  savages  cleared 
out,  and  from  all  appearances  they  had  no  idea  of  doing 
that. 

What  gave  the  trappers  more  cause  for  alarm  than  any- 
thing else,  was  the  fear  that  the  Indians  would  fire  the 
prairie  in  the  morning,  and  endeavour  to  smoke  them  out 
or  burn  them  up.  The  grass  was  in  just  the  condition  to 
make  a  lively  blaze,  and  they  might  escape  the  flames,  and 
then  they  might  not.  It  can  well  be  imagined  how  eagerly 
they  watched  for  the  dawn  of  another  day,  perhaps  the 
last  for  them. 

The  first  gray  streaks  of  light  had  hardly  peeped  above 
the  horizon,  when,  with  an  infernal  yell,  the  Indians  broke 
for  the  rock,  and  the  trappers  were  certain  that  some  new 

possession.  The  reason  for  this  is  the  belief,  which  prevails  among  all 
tribes,  that  if  a  warrior  loses  his  scalp  he  forfeits  his  hope  of  ever  reaching 
the  happy  hunting-ground. 


414  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

project  had  entered  their  heads.  The  wind  was  springing 
up  pretty  freshly,  and  nature  seemed  to  conspire  with  the 
red  devils,  if  they  really  meant  to  burn  the  trappers  out ; 
and  from  the  movements  of  the  savages,  that  was  what 
they  expected.  The  Indians  kept  at  a  respectful  distance 
from  the  range  of  the  trappers'  rifles,  who  chafed  because 
they  could  not  stop  some  of  the  infernal  yelling  with  a 
few  well-directed  bullets,  but  they  had  to  choke  their  rage, 
and  watch  events  closely.  During  a  temporary  lull  in 
hostilities,  one  of  the  trappers  took  occasion  to  crawl  down 
to  where  the  mules  were,  and  shift  them  to  the  west  side  of 
the  rock,  where  the  Avail  was  the  highest ;  so  that  the  flame 
and  smoke  might  possibly  pass  by  them  without  so  much 
danger  as  where  they  were  picketed  before.  He  had  just 
succeeded  in  doing  this,  and,  tearing  up  the  long  grass 
for  several  yards  around  the  animals,  was  in  the  act  of 
going  back,  when  his  partner  yelled  out  to  him :  "  Look 

out!     D n  'em,  they've  fired  the  prairie!"     He  was 

back  on  the  top  of  the  rock  in  another  moment,  and  took 
in  at  a  glance  what  was  coming'. 

The  spectacle  for  a  short  interval  was  indescribably 
grand ;  the  sun  was  shining  with  all  the  power  of  its  rays 
on  the  huge  clouds  of  smoke  as  they  rolled  down  from  the 
north,  tinting  them  a  glorious  crimson.  The  two  trappers 
had  barely  time  to  get  under  the  shelter  of  a  large  pro- 
jecting point  of  the  rocky  wall,  when  the  wind  and  smoke 
swept  down  to  the  ground,  and  instantly  they  were  en- 
veloped in  the  darkness  of  midnight.  They  could  not 
discern  a  single  object ;  neither  Indians,  horses,  the  prairie, 
nor  the  sun  ;   and  what  a  terrible  wind ! 

The  trappers  stood  breathless,  clinging  to  the  projections 
of  rock,  and  did  riot  realize  the  fire  was  so  near  them  until 
they  were  struck  in  the  face  by  pieces  of  burning  buffalo- 
chips  that  were  carried  toward  them  with  the  rapidity  of 
the   awful  wind.      They   were  now  badly  scared,   for  it 


PAWNEE   ROCK  415 

seemed  as  if  they  were  to  be  suffocated.  They  were 
saved,  however,  almost  miraculously ;  the  sheet  of  flame 
passed  them  twenty  yards  away,  as  the  wind  fortunately 
shifted  at  the  moment  the  fire  reached  the  foot  of  the  rock. 
The  darkness  was  so  intense  that  they  did  not  discover 
the  flame ;  they  only  knew  that  they  were  saved  as  the 
clear  sky  greeted  them  from  behind  the  dense  smoke-cloud. 

Two  of  the  Indians  and  their  horses  were  caught  in  their 
own  trap,  and  perished  miserably.  They  had  attempted 
to  reach  the  east  side  of  the  rock,  so  as  to  steal  around  to 
the  other  side  where  the  mules  were,  and  either  cut  them 
loose  or  crawl  up  on  the  trappers  while  bewildered  in  the 
smoke  and  kill  them,  if  they  were  not  already  dead.  But 
they  had  proceeded  only  a  few  rods  on  their  little  expedi- 
tion, when  the  terrible  darkness  of  the  smoke-cloud  over- 
took them  and  soon  the  flames,  from  which  there  was  no 
possible  escape. 

All  the  game  on  the  prairie  which  the  fire  swept  over 
was  killed  too.  Only  a  few  buffalo  were  visible  in  that 
region  before  the  fire,  but  even  they  were  killed.  The 
path  of  the  flames,  as  was  discovered  by  the  caravans  that 
passed  over  the  Trail  a  few  days  afterward,  was  marked 
with  the  crisp  and  blackened  carcasses  of  wolves,  coyotes, 
turkeys,  grouse,  and  every  variety  of  small  birds  indigenous 
to  the  region.  Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  no  living  thing  it 
had  met  escaped  its  fury.  The  fire  assumed  such  gigantic 
proportions,  and  moved  with  such  rapidity  before  the  wind, 
that  even  the  Arkansas  River  did  not  check  its  path  for 
a  moment  ;  it  was  carried  as  reaclity  across  as  if  the 
stream  had  not  been  in  its  way. 

The  first  thought  of  the  trappers  on  the  rock  was  for 
their  poor  mules.  One  crawled  to  where  they  were,  and 
found  them  badly  singed,  but  not  seriously  injured.  The 
men  began  to  brighten  up  again  when  they  knew  that  their 
means    of   transportation    were    relatively    all   right,    and 


416  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

themselves  also,  and  they  took  fresh  courage,  beginning  to 
believe  they  should  get  out  of  their  bad  scrape  after  all. 

In  tbe  meantime  the  Indians,  with  the  exception  of 
three  or  four  left  to  guard  the  rock,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
trappers  from  getting  away,  had  gone  back  to  their  camp 
in  the  ravine,  and  were  evidently  concocting  some  new 
scheme  for  the  discomfort  of  the  besieged  trappers.  The 
latter  waited  patiently  two  or  three  hours  for  the  develop- 
ment of  events,  snatching  a  little  sleep  by  turns,  which 
they  needed  much ;  for  both  were  worn  out  by  their  con- 
stant watching.  At  last  when  the  sun  was  about  three  hours 
high,  the  Indians  commenced  their  infernal  howling  again, 
and  then  the  trappers  knew  they  had  decided  upon  some- 
thing ;  so  they  were  on  the  alert  in  a  moment  to  discover 
what  it  was,  and  euchre  them  if  possible. 

The  devils  this  time  had  tied  all  their  ponies  together, 
covered  them  with  branches  of  trees  that  they  had  gone 
up  on  the  Walnut  for,  packed  some  lodge-skins  on 
these,  and  then,  driving  the  living  breastworks  before 
them,  moved  toward  the  rock.  They  proceeded  cautiously 
but  surely,  and  matters  began  to  look  very  serious  for 
the  trappers.  As  the  strange  cavalcade  approached,  a 
trapper  raised  his  rifle,  and  a  masked  pony  tumbled  over 
on  the  scorched  sod  dead.  As  one  of  the  Indians  ran 
to  cut  him  loose,  the  other  trapper  took  him  off  his  feet 
by  a  well-directed  shot ;  he  never  uttered  a  groan.  The 
besieged  now  saw  their  only  salvation  was  to  kill  the  ponies 
and  so  demoralize  the  Indians  that  they  would  have  to 
abandon  such  tactics,  and  quicker  than  I  can  tell  it,  they 
had  stretched  four  more  out  on  the  prairie,  and  made  it 
so  hot  for  the  savages  that  they  ran  out  of  range  and 
began  to  hold  a  council  of  war. 

Finding  that  their  plan  would  not  work,  —  for  as  the  last 
pony  was  shot,  the  rest  stampeded  and  were  running  wild 
over  the  prairie,  —  the    Indians  soon  went  back  to  their 


PAWNEE   ROCK  417 

camp  again,  and  the  trappers  now  had  a  few  spare  moments 
in  which  to  take  an  account  of  stock.  They  discovered, 
much  to  their  chagrin,  that  they  had  used  up  all  their 
ammunition  except  three  or  four  loads,  and  despair  hovered 
over  them  once  more. 

The  Indians  did  not  reappear  that  evening,  and  the 
cause  was  apparent ;  for  in  the  distance  could  be  seen  a 
long  line  of  wagons,  one  of  the  large  American  caravans 
en  route  to  Santa  Fe.  The  savages  had  seen  it  before  the 
trappers,  and  had  cleared  out.  When  the  train  arrived 
opposite  the  rock,  the  relieved  men  came  down  from  their 
little  fortress,  joined  the  caravan,  and  camped  with  the 
Americans  that  night  on  the  Walnut.  While  they  were 
resting  around  their  camp-fire,  smoking  and  telling  of  their 
terrible  experience  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  the  Indians 
could  be  heard  chanting  the  death-song  while  they  were 
burying  their  warriors  under  the  blackened  sod  of  the 
prairie. 

I  witnessed  a  spirited  encounter  between  a  small  band 
of  Cheyennes  and  Pawnees  in  the  fall  of  1867.  It  oc- 
curred on  the  open  prairie  north  of  the  mouth  of  the 
Walnut,  and  not  a  great  distance  from  Pawnee  Rock. 
Both  tribes  were  hunting  buffalo,  and  when  they,  by  acci- 
dent, discovered  the  presence  of  each  other,  with  a  yell 
that  fairly  shook  the  sand  dunes  on  the  Arkansas,  they 
rushed  at  once  into  the  shock  of  battle. 

That  night,  in  a  timbered  bend  of  the  Walnut,  the  victors 
had  a  grand  dance,  in  which  scalps,  ears,  and  fingers  of  their 
enemies,  suspended  by  strings  to  long  poles,  were  impor- 
tant accessories  to  their  weird  orgies  around  their  huge 
camp-fires.1 

One  of  the  most  horrible  massacres  in  the  history  of  the 
Trail  occurred  at  Little  Cow  Creek  in  the  summer  of  1864. 

1  It  was  in  this  fight  that  the  infamous  Charles  Bent  received  his  death- 
wound. 

2   E 


418  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

In  July  of  that  year  a  government  caravan,  loaded  with 
military  stores  for  Fort  Union  in  New  Mexico,  left  Fort 
Leavenworth  for  the  long  and  dangerous  journey  of  more 
than  seven  hundred  miles  over  the  great  plains,  which  that 
season  were  infested  by  Indians  to  a  degree  almost  without 
precedent  in  the  annals  of  freight  traffic. 

The  train  was  owned  by  a  Mr.  H.  C.  Barret,  a  contractor 
with  the  quartermaster's  department ;  but  he  declined  to 
take  the  chances  of  the  trip  unless  the  government  would 
lease  the  outfit  in  its  entirety,  or  give  him  an  indemnifying 
bond  as  assurance  against  any  loss.  The  chief  quarter- 
master executed  the  bond  as  demanded,  and  Barret  hired 
his  teamsters  for  the  hazardous  journey ;  but  he  found  it  a 
difficult  matter  to  induce  men  to  go  out  that  season. 

Among  those  whom  he  persuaded  to  enter  his  employ 
was  a  mere  boy,  named  McGee,  who  came  wandering  into 
Leavenworth  a  few  weeks  before  the  train  was  readv  to 
leave,  seeking  work  of  any  description.  His  parents  had 
died  on  their  way  to  Kansas,  and  on  his  arrival  at  West- 
port  Landing,  the  emigrant  outfit  that  had  extended  to 
him  shelter  and  protection  in  his  utter  loneliness  was 
disbanded;  so  the  youthful  orphan  was  thrown  on  his  own 
resources.  At  that  time  the  Indians  of  the  great  plains, 
especially  along  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  were  very 
hostile,  and  continually  harassing  the  freight  caravans  and 
stage-coaches  of  the  overland  route.  Companies  of  men 
were  enlisting  and  being  mustered  into  the  United  States 
service  to  go  out  after  the  savages,  and  young  Robert 
McGee  volunteered  with  hundreds  of  others  for  the  dan- 
gerous duty.  The  government  needed  men  badly,  but 
McGee's  youth  militated  against  him,  and  he  was  be- 
low the  required  stature ;  so  he  was  rejected  by  the  muster- 
ing officer. 

Mr.  Barret,  in  hunting  for  teamsters  to  drive  his  cara- 
van, came    across    McGee,  who,  supposing   that  he   was 


PAWNEE   ROCK  419 

hiring  as  a  government  employee,  accepted  Mr.  Barret's 
offer. 

By  the  last  day  of  June  the  caravan  was  all  ready,  and 
on  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  July  1,  the  wagons 
rolled  out  of  the  fort,  escorted  by  a  company  of  United 
States  troops,  from  the  volunteers  referred  to. 

The  caravan  wound  its  weary  way  over  the  lonesome 
Trail  with  nothing  to  relieve  the  monotony  save  a  few 
skirmishes  with  the  Indians ;  but  no  casualties  occurred 
in  these  insignificant  battles,  the  savages  being  afraid  to 
venture  too  near  on  account  of  the  presence  of  the  mili- 
tary escort. 

On  the  18th  of  Juty,  the  caravan  arrived  in  the  vicinity 
of  Fort  Larned.  There  it  was  supposed  that  the  proximity 
of  that  military  post  would  be  a  sufficient  guarantee  from 
any  attack  of  the  savages ;  so  the  men  of  the  train  became 
careless,  and  as  the  day  was  excessively  hot,  they  went 
into  camp  earl}'  in  the  afternoon,  the  escort  remaining  in 
bivouac  about  a  mile  in  the  rear  of  the  train. 

About  five  o'clock,  a  hundred  and  fifty  painted  savages, 
under  the  command  of  Little  Turtle  of  the  Brule  Sioux, 
swooped  down  on  the  unsuspecting  caravan  while  the  men 
were  enjoying  their  evening  meal.  Not  a  moment  was 
given  them  to  rally  to  the  defence  of  their  lives,  and  of  all 
belonging  to  the  outfit,  with  the  exception  of  one  boy, 
not  a  soul  came  out  alive. 

The  teamsters  were  every  one  of  them  shot  dead  and 
their  bodies  horribly  mutilated.  After  their  successful 
raid,  the  savages  destroyed  everything  they  found  in  the 
wagons,  tearing  the  covers  into  shreds,  throwing  the  flour 
on  the  trail,  and  winding  up  by  burning  everything  that 
was  combustible. 

On  the  same  day  the  commanding  officer  of  Fort  Larned 
had  learned  from  some  of  his  scouts  that  the  Brule  Sioux 
were  on  the  war-path,  and  the  chief  of  the  scouts  with  a 


420  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

handful  of  soldiers  was  sent  out  to  reconnoitre.  They 
soon  struck  the  trail  of  Little  Turtle  and  followed  it  to 
the  scene  of  the  massacre  on  Cow  Creek,  arriving  there 
only  two  hours  after  the  savages  had  finished  their  devilish 
work.  Dead  men  were  lying  about  in  the  short  buffalo- 
grass  which  had  been  stained  and  matted  by  their  flowing 
blood,  and  the  agonized  posture  of  their  bodies  told  far  more 
forcibly  than  any  language  the  tortures  which  had  come 
before  a  welcome  death.  All  had  been  scalped;  all  had 
been  mutilated  in  that  nameless  manner  which  seems  to 
delight  the  brutal  instincts  of  the  North  American  savage. 

Moving  slowly  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  lifeless 
forms  which  still  showed  the  agony  of  their  death-throes, 
the  chief  of  the  scouts  came  across  the  bodies  of  two  boys, 
both  of  whom  had  been  scalped  and  shockingly  wounded, 
besides  being  mutilated,  yet,  strange  to  say,  both  of  them 
were  alive.  As  tenderly  as  the  men  could  lift  them,  they 
were  conveyed  at  once  back  to  Fort  Larnecl  and  given  in 
charge  of  the  post  surgeon.  One  of  the  boys  died  in  a 
few  hours  after  his  arrival  in  the  hospital,  but  the  other, 
Robert  McGee,  slowly  regained  his  strength,  and  came  out 
of  the  ordeal  in  fairly  good  health. 

The  story  of  the  massacre  was  related  by  young  McGee, 
after  he  was  able  to  talk,  while  in  the  hospital  at  the 
fort;  for  he  had  not  lost  consciousness  during  the  suffering 
to  which  he  was  subjected  by  the  savages. 

He  was  compelled  to  witness  the  tortures  inflicted  on 
his  wounded  and  captive  companions,  after  which  he  was 
dragged  into  the  presence  of  the  chief,  Little  Turtle,  who 
determined  that  he  would  kill  the  boy  with  his  own  hands. 
He  shot  him  in  the  back  with  his  own  revolver,  having' 
first  knocked  him  down  with  a  lance  handle.  He  then 
drove  two  arrows  through  the  unfortunate  boy's  body, 
fastening  him  to  the  ground,  and  stooping  over  his  pros- 
trate form  ran  his  knife  around  his  head,  lifting  sixty-four 


PAWNEE   ROCK 


421 


square  inches  of  his  scalp,  trimming  it  off  just  behind  his 
ears. 

Believing  him  dead  by  that  time,  Little  Turtle  aban- 
doned his  victim ;  but  the  other  savages,  as  they  went  by 
his  supposed  corpse,  could  not  resist  their  infernal  delight 
in  blood,  so  they  thrust  their  knives  into  him,  and  bored 
great  holes  in  his  body  with  their  lances. 

After  the  savages  had  done  all  that  their  devilish  inge- 
nuity could  contrive,  they  exultingly  rode  away,  yelling  as 
they  bore  off  the  reeking  scalps  of  their  victims,  and  drove 
away  the  hundreds  of  mules  they  had  captured. 

When  the  tragedy  was  ended,  the  soldiers,  who  had 
from  their  vantage-ground  witnessed  the  whole  diabolical 
transaction,  came  up  to  the  bloody  camp  by  order  of  their 
commander,  to  learn  whether  the  teamsters  had  driven 
away  their  assailants,  and  saw  too  late  what  their  cowardice 
had  allowed  to  take  place.  The  officer  in  command 
of  the  escort  was  dismissed  the  service,  as  he  could  not 
give  any  satisfactory  reason  for  not  going  to  the  rescue  of 
the  caravan  he  had  been  ordered  to  guard. 


/orf~Dod^(t 


CHAPTER   XXI 

WAGON    MOUND JOHN    L.    HATCHER'S     THRILLING    ADVENTURE 

WITH     OLD     WOLF,    THE    WAR-CHIEF     OF     THE     COMANCHES — ■ 

INCIDENTS    ON    THE    TRAIL A  BOY  BUGLER'S  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

FROM  THE  SAVAGES  AT  FORT  UNION A  DRUNKEN  STAGE- 
DRIVER HOW  AN  OFFICER  OF  THE  QUARTERMASTER'S  DE- 
PARTMENT AT  WASHINGTON  SUCCEEDED  IN  STARTING  THE 
MILITARY     FREIGHT     CARAVANS     A     MONTH      EARLIER      THAN 

THE      USUAL      TIME HOW      JOHN      CHISHOLM      FOOLED      THE 

STAGE-ROBBERS THE   STORY  OF  HALF  A  PLUG  OF    TOBACCO. 


Jne  Jndian  of 

loday 


HE  Wagon  Mound,  so 
called  from  its  resem- 
blance to  a  covered  army- 
wagon,  is  a  rocky  mesa 
forty  miles  from  Point 
of  Rocks,  westwardly. 
The  stretch  of  the  Trail 
from  the  latter  to  the 
mound  has  been  the 
scene  of  some  desperate 
encounters,  only  ex- 
ceeded in  number  and 
sanguinary  results  by 
those  which  have  oc- 
curred in  the  region  of 

Pawnee  Rock,  the  crossing  of  the  Walnut,  Pawnee  Fork, 

and  Cow  Creek. 

One    of   the    most    remarkable    stories  of   this  Wagon 

Mound  country  dealt  with  the  nerve  and  bravery  exhibited 

422 


itiu 
IfffP 


F00LI1SIG   STAGE   ROBBERS  423 

by  John  L.  Hatcher  in  defence  of  his  life,  and  those  of  the 
men  in  his  caravan,  about  1858. 

Hatcher  was  a  noted  trader  and  merchant  of  New- 
Mexico.  He  was  also  celebrated  as  an  Indian  fighter,  and 
his  name  was  a  terror  to  the  savages  who  infested  the 
settlements  of  New  Mexico  and  raided  the  Trail. 

He  left  Taos,  where  he  then  resided,  in  the  summer, 
with  his  caravan  loaded  with  furs  and  pelts  destined  for 
Westport  Landing ;  to  be  forwarded  from  there  to  St. 
Louis,  the  only  market  for  furs  in  the  far  West.  His  train 
was  a  small  one,  comprising  about  fifteen  wagons  and 
handled  by  about  as  many  men,  including  himself.  At  the 
date  of  his  adventure  the  Indians  were  believed  to  be  at 
peace  with  everybody;  a  false  idea,  as  Hatcher  well  knew, 
for  there  never  was  such  a  condition  of  affairs  as  absolute 
immunity  from  their  attacks.  While  it  might  be  true  that 
the  old  men  refrained  for  a  time  from  starting  out  on  the 
war-path,  there  were  ever  the  vastly  greater  number  of  rest- 
less young  warriors  who  had  not  yet  earned  their  eagle 
feathers,  who  could  not  be  controlled  by  their  chiefs,  and 
who  were  always  engaged  in  marauding,  either  among  the 
border  settlements  or  along  the  line  of  the  Trail. 

When  Hatcher  was  approaching  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  Wagon  Mound,1  with  his  train  strung  out  in  single 
column,  to  his  great  astonishment  there  suddenly  charged 
on  him  from  over  the  hill  about  three  hundred  savages, 
all  feather-bedecked  and  painted  in  the  highest  style  of 
Indian  art.  As  they  rode  toward  the  caravan,  they  gave 
the  sign  of  peace,  which  Hatcher  accepted  for  the  time 
as  true,  although  he  knew  them  well.  However,  he  in- 
vited the  head  men  to  some  refreshment,  as  was  usual  on 
such  occasions  in  those  days,  throwing  a  blanket  on  the 
ground,  on  which  sugar  in  abundance  was  served  out. 

1  The  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  F6  Railroad  track  runs  very  close 
to  the  mound,  and  there  is  a  station  named  for  the  great  mesa. 


424  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

The  sweet-toothed  warriors  helped  themselves  liberally, 
and  affected  much  delight  at  the  way  they  were  being 
treated ;  but  Hatcher,  with  his  knowledge  of  the  savage 
character,  was  firm  in  the  belief  that  they  came  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  rob  the  caravan  and  kill  him  and 
his  men. 

They  were  Comanches,  and  one  of  the  most  noted  chiefs 
of  the  tribe  was  in  command  of  the  band,  with  some  infe- 
.rior  chiefs  under  him.  I  think  it  was  Old  Wolf,  a  very 
old  man  then,  whose  raids  into  Texas  had  made  his  name 
a  terror  to  the  Mexicans  living  on  the  border. 

While  the  chiefs  were  eating  their  saccharine  lunch, 
Hatcher  was  losing  no  time  in  forming  his  wagons  into  a 
canal,  but  he  told  his  friends  afterward  that  he  had  no 
idea  that  either  he  or  any  of  his  men  would  escape ;  only 
fifteen  or  sixteen  men  against  over  three  hundred  merci- 
less savages,  and  those  the  worst  on  the  continent,  and  a 
small  corral,  —  the  chances  were  totally  hopeless !  Noth- 
ing but  a  desperate  action  could  avail,  and  maybe  not  even 
that.1  Hatcher,  after  the  other  head  men  had  finished  eat- 
ing, asked  the  old  chief  to  send  his  young  warriors  away 
over  the  hill.  They  were  all  sitting  close  to  one  of  the 
wagons,  Old  Wolf,  in  fact,  leaning  against  the  wheel 
resting  on  his  blanket,  with  Hatcher  next  him  on  his 
right.  Hatcher  was  so  earnest  in  his  appeal  to  have  the 
young  men  sent  away,  that  both  the  venerable  villain  and 
his  other  chiefs  rose  and  were  standing.  Without  a 
moment's  notice  or  the  slightest  warning,  Hatcher  reached 
with  his  left  hand  and  grabbed  Old  Wolf  by  his  scalp-lock, 
and  with  his  right  drew  his  butcher-knife  from  its  scab- 
bard and  thrust  it  at  the  throat  of  the  chief.     All  this  was 

1  The  venerable  Colonel  A.  S.  Johnson,  of  Topeka,  Kansas,  the  first 
white  child  born  on  the  great  State's  soil,  who  related  to  me  this  adventure 
of  Hatcher's,  knew  him  well.  He  says  that  he  was  a  small  man,  full  of 
muscle,  and  as  fearless  as  can  be  conceived. 


FOOLING   STAGE   KOBBERS  425 

done  in  an  instant,  as  quick  as  lightning ;  no  one  had  time 
to  move.  The  situation  was  remarkable.  The  little,  wiry 
man,  surrounded  by  eight  or  nine  of  the  most  renowned 
warriors  of  the  dreaded  Comanches,  stood  firm ;  everybody 
was  breathless ;  not  a  word  did  the  savages  say.  Hatcher 
then  said  again  to  Old  Wolf,  in  the  most  determined  man- 
ner: "Send  your  young  men  over  the  hill  at  once,  or  I'll 
kill  you  right  where  you  are!  "  holding  on  to  the  hair  of 
the  savage  with  his  left  hand  and  keeping  the  knife  at  his 
throat. 

The  other  Indians  did  not  dare  to  make  a  move ;  they 
knew  what  kind  of  a  man  Hatcher  was ;  they  knew  he 
would  do  as  he  had  said,  and  that  if  they  attempted  a 
rescue  he  would  kill  their  favourite  chief  in  a  second. 

Old  Wolf  shook  his  head  defiantly  in  the  negative. 
Hatcher  repeated  his  order,  getting  madder  all  the  time : 
"Send  your  young  men  over  the  hill,  I  tell  you!"  Old 
Wolf  was  still  stubborn ;  he  shook  his  head  again. 
Hatcher  gave  him  another  chance:  "Send  your  young 
men  over  the  hill,  I  tell  you,  or  I'll  scalp  you  alive  as 
you  are!"  Again  the  chief  shook  his  head.  Then 
Hatcher,  still  holding  on  the  hair  of  his  stubborn  victim, 
commenced  to  make  an  incision  in  the  head  of  Old  Wolf, 
for  the  determined  man  was  bound  to  carry  out  his  threat; 
but  he  began  very  slowly. 

As  the  chief  felt  the  blood  trickle  down  his  forehead, 
he  weakened.  He  ordered  his  next  in  command  to  send 
the  young  men  over  the  hill  and  out  of  sight.  The 
order  was  repeated  immediately  to  the  warriors,  who 
were  astonished  spectators  of  the  strange  scene,  and  the)' 
quickly  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  away  over  the  hill 
as  fast  as  they  could  thump  their  animals'  sides  with 
their  legs,  leaving  only  five  or  six  chiefs  with  Old  Wolf 
and  Hatcher. 

Hatcher  held  on  like  grim  death  to  the  old  chief's  head, 


426  THE   OLD   SANTA  FE   TRAIL 

and  immediately  ordered  his  men  to  throw  the  robes  out 
of  the  wagons  as  quickly  as  they  could,  and  get  inside 
themselves.  This  was  promptly  obeyed,  and  when  they 
were  all  under  the  cover  of  the  wagon  sheets,  Hatcher  let 
go  of  his  victim's  hair,  and,  with  a  last  kick,  told  him 
and  his  friends  that  they  could  leave.  They  went  off, 
and  did  not  return. 

Some  laughable  incidents  have  enlivened  the  generally 
sanguinary  history  of  the  Old  Santa  F6"  Trail,  but  they 
were  very  serious  at  the  time  to  those  who  were  the  actors, 
and  their  ludicrousness  came  after  all  was  over. 

In  the  late  summer  of  1866,  a  thieving  band  of  Apaches 
came  into  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Union,  New  Mexico,  and 
after  carefully  reconnoitring  the  whole  region  and  getting 
at  the  manner  in  which  the  stock  belonging  to  the  fort 
was  herded,  they  secreted  themselves  in  the  Turkey 
Mountains  overlooking  the  entire  reservation,  and  lay 
in  wait  for  several  days,  watching  for  a  favourable  moment 
to  make  a  raid  into  the  valley  and  drive  off  the  herd. 

Selecting  an  occasion  when  the  guard  was  weak  and 
not  very  alert,  they  in  broad  daylight  crawled  under  the 
cover  of  a  hill,  and,  mounting  their  horses,  dashed  out 
with  the  most  unearthly  yells  and  down  among  the  ani- 
mals that  were  quietly  grazing  close  to  the  fort,  which 
terrified  these  so  greatly  that  they  broke  away  from  the 
herders,  and  started  at  their  best  gait  toward  the  moun- 
tains, closely  followed  by  the  savages. 

The  astonished  soldiers  used  every  effort  to  avert  the 
evident  loss  of  their  charge,  and  many  shots  were  ex- 
changed in  the  running  fight  that  ensued;  but  the  Indians 
were  too  strong  for  them,  and  they  were  forced  to  abandon 
the  chase. 

Among  the  herders  was  a  bugler  boy,  who  was  remark- 
able for  his  bravery  in  the  skirmish  and  for  his  untiring 
endeavours  to  turn  the  animals  back  toward  the  fort,  but 


FOOLING   STAGE   ROBBERS  427 

all  without  avail;  on  they  went,  with  the  savages,  close 
to  their  heels,  giving  vent  to  the  most  vociferous  shouts 
of  exultation,  and  directing  the  most  obscene  and  insult- 
ing gesticulations  to  the  soldiers  that  were  after  them. 

While  this  exciting  contest  for  the  mastery  was  going 
on,  an  old  Apache  chief  dashed  in  the  rear  of  the  bold 
bugler  boy,  and  could,  without  doubt,  easily  have  killed 
the  little  fellow;  but  instead  of  doing  this,  from  some 
idea  of  a  good  joke,  or  for  some  other  incomprehensible 
reason,  his  natural  blood-thirsty  instinct  was  changed,  and 
he  merely  knocked  the  bugler's  hat  from  his  head  with 
the  flat  of  his  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  encouragingly 
stroked  his  hair,  as  much  as  to  say :  "  You  are  a  brave  boy, " 
and  then  rode  off  without  doing  him  any  harm. 

Thirty  years  ago  last  August,  I  was  riding  from  Fort 
Larned  to  Fort  Union,  New  Mexico,  in  the  overland  coach. 
I  had  one  of  my  clerks  with  me ;  we  were  the  only  passen- 
gers, and  arrived  at  Fort  Dodge,  which  was  the  commence- 
ment of  the  "  long  route,"  at  midnight.  There  we  changed 
drivers,  and  at  the  break  of  day  were  some  twenty-four 
miles  on  our  lonely  journey.  The  coach  was  rattling  along 
at  a  breakneck  gait,  and  I  saw  that  something  was  evi- 
dently wrong.  Looking  out  of  one  of  the  doors,  I  noticed 
that  our  Jehu  was  in  a  beastly  state  of  intoxication.  It 
was  a  most  dangerous  portion  of  the  Trail ;  the  Indians 
were  not  in  the  best  of  humours,  and  an  attack  was  not  at 
all  improbable  before  we  arrived  at  the  next  station,  Fort 
Lyon. 

I  said  to  my  clerk  that  something  must  be  done ;  so  I 
ordered  the  driver  to  halt,  which  he  did  willingly,  got  out, 
and  found  that,  notwithstanding  his  drunken  mood,  he 
was  very  affable  and  disposed  to  be  full  of  fun.  I  sug- 
gested that  he  get  inside  the  coach  and  lie  down  to  sleep 
off  his  potations,  to  which  he  readily  assented,  while  I 
and  my  clerk,  after  snugly  fixing  him  on  the  cushions, 


428  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

got  on  the  boot,  I  taking  the  lines,  he  seizing  an  old 
trace-chain,  with  which  he  pounded  the  mules  along;  for 
we  felt  ourselves  in  a  ticklish  predicament  should  we  come 
across  any  of  the  brigands  of  the  plains,  on  that  lonely 
route,  with  the  animals  to  look  out  for,  and  only  two  of 
us  to  do  the  fighting. 

Suddenly  we  saw  sitting  on  the  bank  of  the  Arkansas 
River,  about  a  dozen  rods  from  the  Trail,  an  antiquated- 
looking  savage  with  his  war -bonnet  on,  and  armed  with  a 
long  lance  and  his  bow  and  arrows.  We  did  not  care  a 
cent  for  him,  but  I  thought  he  might  be  one  of  the  tribe's 
runners,  lying  in  wait  to  discover  the  condition  of  the 
coach, —  whether  it  had  an  escort,  and  how  many  were  rid- 
ing in  it,  and  that  then  he  would  go  and  tell  how  ridicu- 
lously small  the  outfit  was,  and  swoop  down  on  us  with  a 
band  of  his  colleagues,  that  were  hidden  somewhere  in  the 
sand  hills  south  of  the  river.  He  rose  as  we  came  near, 
and  made  the  sign,  after  he  had  given  vent  to  a  series 
of  "  How's ! "  that  he  wanted  to  talk ;  but  we  were  not 
anxious  for  any  general  conversation  with  his  savage 
majesty  just  then,  so  my  clerk  applied  the  trace-chain 
more  vigorously  to  the  tired  mules,  in  order  to  get  as 
many  miles  between  him  and  the  coach  as  we  could  before 
he  could  get  over  into  the  sand  hills  and  back. 

It  was,  fortunately,  a  false  alarm;  the  old  warrior  per- 
haps had  no  intentions  of  disturbing  us.  We  arrived  at 
Fort  Lyon  in  good  season,  with  our  valorous  driver  abso- 
lutely sobered,  requesting  me  to  say  nothing  about  his 
accident,  which,  of  course,  I  did  not. 

As  has  been  stated,  the  caravans  bound  for  Santa  Fe 
and  the  various  forts  along  the  line  of  the  Old  Trail  did 
not  leave  the  eastern  end  of  the  route  until  the  grass  on 
the  plains,  on  which  the  animals  depended  solely  for  sub- 
sistence the  whole  way,  grew  sufficiently  to  sustain  them, 
which  was  usually  about  the  middle  of  May.     But  a  great 


FOOLING  STAGE   ROBBERS  429 

many  years  ago,  one  of  the  high  officials  of  the  quarter- 
master's department  at  Washington,  who  had  never  been 
for  a  moment  on  duty  on  the  frontier  in  his  life,  found  a 
g-ood  deal  of  fault  with  what  he  thought  the  dilatoriness 
of  the  officer  in  charge  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  who  con- 
trolled the  question  of  transportation  for  the  several  forts 
scattered  all  over  the  West,  for  not  getting  the  freight 
caravans  started  earlier,  which  the  functionary  at  the 
capital  said  must  and  should  be  done.  He  insisted  that 
they  must  leave  the  Missouri  River  by  the  middle  of  April, 
a  month  earlier  than  usual,  and  came  out  himself  to  super- 
intend the  matter.  He  made  the  contracts  accordingly, 
easily  finding  contractors  that  suited  him.  He  then  wrote 
to  headquarters  in  a  triumphant  manner  that  he  had 
revolutionized  the  whole  system  of  army  transportation  of 
supplies  to  the  military  posts.  Delighted  with  his  suc- 
cess, he  rode  out  about  the  second  week  of  May  to  Salt 
Creek,  only  three  miles  from  the  fort,  and,  very  much  to 
his  astonishment,  found  his  teams,  which  he  had  believed 
to  be  on  the  way  to  Santa  Fe"  a  month  ago,  snugly  en- 
camped.    They  had  "started,"  just  as  was  agreed. 

There  are,  or  rather  were,  hundreds  of  stories  current 
thirty-five  years  ago  of  stage-coach  adventures  on  the 
Trail;  a  volume  could  be  filled  with  them,  but  I  must 
confine  myself  to  a  few. 

John  Chisholm  was  a  famous  ranchman  a  long  while 
ago,  who  had  so  many  cattle  that  it  was  said  he  did  not 
know  their  number  himself.  At  one  time  he  had  a  large 
contract  to  furnish  beef  to  an  Indian  agency  in  Arizona; 
he  had  just  delivered  an  immense  herd  there,  and  very 
wisely,  after  receiving  his  cash  for  them,  sent  most  of  it 
on  to  Santa  F6  in  advance  of  his  own  journey.  When  he 
arrived  there,  he  started  for  the  Missouri  River  with  a 
thousand- dollars  and  sufficient  small  change  to  meet  his 
current  expenses  on  the  road. 


430  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

The  very  first  night  out  from  Santa  F6",  the  coach  was 
halted  by  a  band  of  men  who  had  been  watching  Chisholm's 
movements  from  the  time  he  left  the  agency  in  Arizona. 
The  instant  the  stage  came  to  a  standstill,  Chisholm  divined 
what  it  meant,  and  had  time  to  thrust  a  roll  of  money 
down  one  of  the  legs  of  his  trousers  before  the  door  was 
thrown  back  and  he  was  ordered  to  fork  over  what  he  had. 

He  invited  the  robbers  to  search  him,  and  to  take  what 
they  might  find,  but  said  he  was  not  in  a  financial  condi- 
tion at  that  juncture  to  turn  over  much.  The  thieves 
found  his  watch,  took  that,  and  then  began  to  search  him. 
As  luck  would  have  it,  they  entirely  missed  the  roll  that 
was  down  his  leg,  and  discovered  but  a  two-dollar  bill 
in  his  vest.  When  he  told  them  it  was  all  he  had  to 
buy  grub  on  the  road,  one  of  the  robbers  handed  him  a 
silver  dollar,  remarking  as  he  did  so :  "  That  a  man  who 
was  mean  enough  to  travel  with  only  two  dollars  ought  to 
starve,  but  he  would  give  him  the  dollar  just  to  let  him 
know  that  he  was  dealing  with  gentlemen !  " 

One  of  the  essentials  to  the  comfort  of  the  average  sol- 
dier is  tobacco.  He  must  have  it ;  he  would  sooner  forego 
any  component  part  of  his  ration  than  give  it  up. 

In  November,  1865,  a  detachment  of  Company  L, 
of  the  Eleventh  Kansas  Volunteers,  and  of  the  Second 
Colorado  were  ordered  from  Fort  Lamed  to  Fort  Lyon 
on  a  scouting  expedition  along  the  line  of  the  Trail,  the 
savages  having  been  very  active  in  their  raids  on  the 
freight  caravans. 

In  a  short  time  their  tobacco  began  to  run  low,  and  as 
there  was  no  settlement  of  any  kind  between  the  two 
military  jtosts,  there  was  no  chance  to  replenish  their 
stock.  One  night,  while  encamped  on  the  Arkansas, 
the  only  piece  that  was  left  in  the  whole  command,  about 
half  a  plug,  was  unfortunately  lost,  and  there  was  dismay 
in  the  camp  when  the  fact  was  announced.     Hours  were 


FOOLING   STAGE   ROBBERS  431 

spent  in  searching  for  the  missing  treasure.  The  next 
morning  the  march  was  delayed  for  some  time,  while  fur- 
ther diligent  search  was  instituted  by  all  hands,  but  with- 
out result,  and  the  command  set  out  on  its  weary  tramp, 
as  disconsolate  as  may  well  be  imagined  by  those  wllo  are 
victims  to  the  habit  of  chewing  the  weed. 

Arriving  at  Fort  Lyon,  to  their  greater  discomfort  it 
was  learned  that  the  sutler  at  that  post  was  entirely  out 
of  the  coveted  article,  and  the  troops  began  their  return 
journey  more  disconsolate  than  ever.  Dry  leaves,  grass, 
and  even  small  bits  of  twigs,  were  chewed  as  a  substitute, 
until,  reaching  the  spot  where  they  had  lost  the  part  of 
a  plug,  they  determined  to  remain  there  that  night  and 
begin  a  more  vigorous  hunt  for  the  missing  piece.  Just 
before  dark  their  efforts  were  rewarded;  one  of  the  men 
found  it,  and  such  a  scramble  occurred  for  even  the  small- 
est nibble  at  it!  Enormous  juices  were  given  for  a  single 
chew.  It  opened  at  one  dollar  for  a  mere  sliver,  rose  to 
five,  and  closed  at  ten  dollars  when  the  last  morsel  was 
left. 


Ik&£ 


7/icJo/i/dr/tfcmj  Peak 


CHAPTER   XXII 


SOLITARY    GRAVES     ALONG    THE     LINE    OF    THE    OLD     SANTA    FE 

TRAIL THE  WALNUT  CROSSING FORT  ZARAH THE  GRAVES 

ON     HON.     D.     HEIZER'S     RANCH     ON    THE    WALNUT TROOPS 

STATIONED  AT  THE  CROSSING  OF  THE   WALNUT A  TERRIBLE 

FIVE    MILES THE    CAVALRY    RECRUIT'S    LAST    RIDE 


N  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  on  the  great  plains 
along  the  line  of  the  Old 
Trail  are  many  rude  and 
widely  separated  graves. 
The  sequestered  little  val- 
leys, the  lonely  gulches, 
and  the  broad  prairies  through 
ffl*  which  the  highway  to  New 
fe.  Mexico  wound  its  course,  hide 
R  the  bones  of  hundreds  of  whom 
W  the  world  will  never  have  any 
more  knowledge.  The  number 
of  these  solitary,  and  almost  oblit- 
erated mounds  is  small  when  compared 
with  the  vast  multitude  in  the  cemeteries  of  our  towns, 
though  if  the  host  of  those  whose  bones  are  mouldering 
under  the  short  buffalo-grass  and  tall  blue-stem  of  the 
prairies  between  the  Missouri  and  the  mountains  were 
tabulated,  the  list  would  be  appalling.  Their  aggregate 
will  never  be  known ;  for  the  once  remote  region  of  the 
mid-continent,  like  the  ocean,  rarely  gave  up  its  victims. 

432 


A  DESPERATE   RIDE  433 

Lives  went  out  there  as  goes  an  expiring  candle,  suddenly, 
swiftly,  and  silently ;  no  record  was  kept  of  time  or  place. 
All  those  who  thus  died  are  graveless  and  mpnumentless, 
the  great  circle  of  the  heavens  is  the  dome  of  their  sepul- 
chre, and  the  recurring  blossoms  of  springtime  their  only 
epitaph. 

Sometimes  the  traveller  over  the  Old  Trail  will  sud- 
denly, in  the  most  unexpected  places,  come  across  a  little 
mound,  perhaps  covered  with  stones,  under  which  lie  the 
mouldering  bones  of  some  unfortunate  adventurer.  Above, 
now  on  a  rude  board,  then  on  a  detached  rock,  or  maybe 
on  the  wall  of  a  beetling  canon,  he  may  frequently  read, 
in  crude  pencilling  or  rougher  carving,  the  legend  of  the 
dead  man's  ending. 

The  line  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad, 
which  practically  runs  over  the  Old  Trail  for  nearly  its 
whole  length  to  the  mountains,  is  a  fertile  field  of  iso- 
lated graves.  The  savage  and  soldier,  the  teamster  and 
scout,  the  solitary  trapper  or  hunter,  and  many  others 
who  have  gone  down  to  their  death  fighting  with  the 
relentless  nomad  of  the  plains,  or  have  been  otherwise 
ruthlessly  cut  off,  mark  with  their  last  resting-places  that 
well-worn  pathway  across  the  continent. 

The  tourist,  looking  from  his  car-window  as  he  is  whirled 
with  the  speed  of  a  tornado  toward  the  snow-capped  peaks 
of  the  "  Great  Divide,"  may  see  as  he  approaches  Walnut 
Creek,  three  miles  east  of  the  town  of  Great  Bend  in 
Kansas,  on  the  beautiful  ranch  of  Hon.  D.  Heizer,  not 
far  from  -the  stream,  and  close  to  the  house,  a  series  of 
graves,  numbering,  perhaps,  a  score.  These  have  been  most 
religiously  cared  for  by  the  patriotic  proprietor  of  the  place 
during  all  the  long  years  since  1864,  as  he  believes  them 
to  be  the  last  resting-place  of  soldiers  who  were  once  a 
portion  of  the  garrison  of  Fort  Zarah,  the  ruins  of  which 
(now  a  mere  hole  in  the  earth)  are  but  a  few  hundred 

2  F 


434  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

yards  away,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  railroad  track, 
plainly  visible  from  the  train. 

The  Walnut  debouches  into  the  Arkansas  a  short  dis- 
tance from  where  the  railroad  crosses  the  creek,  and  at 
this  point,  too,  the  trail  from  Fort  Leavenworth  merges 
into  the  Old  Santa  Fe.  The  broad  pathway  is  very 
easily  recognized  here ;  for  it  runs  over  a  hard,  flinty,  low 
divide,  that  has  never  been  disturbed  by  the  plough,  and 
the  traveller  has  only  to  cast  his  eyes  in  a  northeasterly 
direction  in  order  to  see  it  plainly. 

The  creek  is  fairly  well  timbered  to-day,  as  it  has  been 
ever  since  the  first  caravan  crossed  the  clear  water  of  the 
little  stream.  It  was  always  a  favourite  place  of  ambush 
bj'  the  Indians,  and  many  a  conflict  has  occurred  in  the 
beautiful  bottom  bounded  by  a  margin  of  trees  on  two 
sides,  between  the  traders,  trappers,  troops,  and  the  Indians, 
and  also  between  the  several  tribes  that  were  hereditary 
enemies,  particularly  the  Pawnees  and  the  Cheyennes. 
It  is  only  about  sixteen  miles  east  of  Pawnee  Rock,  and 
included  in  that  region  of  debatable  ground  where  no 
band  of  Indians  dared  establish  a  permanent  village;  for  it 
was  claimed  by  all  the  tribes,  but  really  owned  by  none. 

In  1864  the  commerce  of  the  great  plains  had  reached 
enormous  proportions,  and  immense  caravans  rolled  day 
after  day  toward  the  blue  hills  which  guard  the  portals  of 
New  Mexico,  and  the  precious  freight  constantly  tempted 
the  wily  savages  to  plunder. 

To  protect  the  caravans  on  their  monotonous  route 
through  the  "  Desert,"  as  this  portion  of  the  plains  was 
then  termed,  troops  were  stationed,  a  mere  handful  rela- 
tively, at  intervals  on  the  Trail,  to  escort  the  freighters 
and  mail  coaches  over  the  most  exposed  and  dangerous 
portions  of  the  way. 

On  the  bank  of  the  Walnut,  at  this  time,  were  stationed 
three  hundred  unassigned  recruits  of  the  Third  Wisconsin 


A  DESPERATE   RIDE  435 

Cavalry,  under  the  command  of  Captain  Conkey.  This 
point  was  rightly  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  important 
on  the  whole  overland  route ;  for  near  it  passed  the 
favourite  highway  of  the  Indians  on  their  yearhy  migra- 
tions north  and  south,  in  the  wake  of  the  strange  elliptical 
march  of  the  buffalo  far  beyond  the  Platte,  and  back  to 
the  sunny  knolls  of  the  Canadian. 

This  primitive  cantonment  which  grew  rapidly  in  stra- 
tegical importance,  was  two  years  later  made  quite  formid- 
able defensively,  and  named  Fort  Zarah,  in  memory  of  the 
youngest  son  of  Major  General  Curtis,  who  was  killed  by 
guerillas  somewhere  south  of  Fort  Scott,  Kansas,  while 
escorting  General  James  G.  Blunt,  of  frontier  fame  during 
the  Civil  War. 

Captain  Henry  Booth,  during  the  year  above  mentioned, 
was  chief  of  cavalry  and  inspecting  officer  of  the  military 
district  of  the  Upper  Arkansas,  the  western  geographical 
limits  of  which  extended  to  the  foot-hills  of  the  moun- 
tains. 

One  day  he  received  an  order  from  the  head-quarters 
of  the  department  to  make  a  special  inspection  of  all 
the  outposts  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail.  He  was  stationed 
at  Fort  Riley  at  the  time,  and  the  evening  the  order  ar- 
rived, active  preparations  were  immediately  commenced 
for  his  extended  and  hazardous  trip  across  the  plains. 
Lieutenant  Hallowell,  of  the  Ninth  Wisconsin  Battery, 
was  to  accompany  him,  and  both  officers  went  at  once 
to  their  quarters,  took  down  from  the  walls,  where  they 
had  been  hanging  idly  for  weeks,  their  rifles  and  pistols, 
and  carefully  examined  and  brushed  them  up  for  possible 
service  in  the  dreary  Arkansas  bottom.  Camp-kettles, 
until  late  in  the  night,  sizzled  and  sputtered  over  crack- 
ling log-fires ;  for  their  proposed  ride  beyond  the  settle- 
ments demanded  cooked  rations  for  many  a  weary  day. 
All  the  preliminaries  arranged,  the  question  of  the  means 


436  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

of  transportation  was  determined,  and,  curiously  enough, 
it  saved  the  lives  of  the  two  officers  in  the  terrible  gaunt- 
let they  were  destined  to  run. 

Hallowell  was  a  famous  whip,  and  prided  himself  upon 
the  exceptionally  fine  turnout  which  he  daily  drove  among 
the  picturesque  hills  around  the  fort. 

"  Booth,"  said  he  in  the  evening,  "  let's  not  take  a  great 
lumbering  ambulance  on  this  trip ;  if  you  will  get  a  good 
way-up  team  of  mules  from  the  quartermaster,  we'll  use 
my  light  rig,  and  we'll  do  our  own  driving." 

To  this  proposition  Booth  readily  assented,  procured 
the  mules,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  they  were  a  "good  way- 
up  team." 

Hallowell  had  a  set  of  bows  fitted  to  his  light  wagon, 
over  which  was  thrown  an  army-wagon-sheet,  drawn  up 
behind  with  a  cord,  similar  to  those  of  the  ordinary  emi- 
grant outfit  to  be  seen  daily  on  the  roads  of  the  Western 
prairies.  A  round  hole  was  necessarily  left  in  the  rear 
end,  serving  the  purpose  of  a  lookout. 

Two  grip-sacks,  containing  their  dress  uniforms,  a  box 
of  crackers  and  cheese,  meat  and  sardines,  together  with  a 
bottle  of  anti-snake  bite,  made  up  the  principal  freight  for 
the  long  journey,  and  in  the  clear  cold  of  the  early  morn- 
ing they  rolled  out  of  the  gates  of  the  fort,  escorted  by 
Company  L,  of  the  Eleventh  Kansas,  commanded  by  Lieu- 
tenant Van  Antwerp. 

The  company  of  one  hundred  mounted  men  acting  as 
escort  was  too  formidable  a  number  for  the  Indians,  and 
not  a  sign  of  one  was  seen  as  the  dangerous  flats  of 
Plum  Creek  and  the  rolling  country  beyond  were  suc- 
cessively passed,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  the  canton- 
ment on  Walnut  Creek  was  reached.  At  this  important 
outpost  Captain  Conkey's  command  was  living  in  a  rude 
but  comfortable  sort  of  a  way,  in  the  simplest  of  dug- 
outs, constructed  along  the  right  bank  of  the  stream ;  the 


A    DESPERATE   RIDE  437 

officers,  a  little  more  in  accordance  with  military  dignity, 
in  tents  a  few  rods  in  rear  of  the  line  of  huts. 

A  stockade  stable  had  been  built,  with  a  capacity  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty  horses,  and  sufficient  hay  had  been 
put  up  by  the  men  in  the  fall  to  carry  the  animals  through 
the  winter. 

Captain  Conkey  was  a  brusque  but  kind-hearted  man, 
and  with  him  were  stationed  other  officers,  one  of  whom 
was  a  son  of  Admiral  Goldsboroug-h.  The  morning'  after 
the  arrival  of  the  inspecting  officers  a  rigid  examination 
of  all  the  appointments  and  belongings  of  the  place  was 
made,  and,  as  an  immense  amount  of  property  had  ac- 
cumulated for  condemnation,  when  evening  came  the 
books  and  papers  were  still  untouched;  so  that  branch 
of  the  inspection  had  to  be  postponed  until  the  next 
morning. 

After  dark,  while  sitting  around  the  camp-fire,  discussing 
the  war,  telling  stories,  etc.,  Captain  Conkey  said  to  Booth: 
"  Captain,  it  won't  require  more  than  half  an  hour  in  the 
morning  to  inspect  the  papers  and  finish  up  what  you 
have  to  do ;  why  don't  you  start  your  escort  out  very 
early,  so  it  won't  be  obliged  to  trot  after  the  ambulance, 
or  you  to  poke  along  with  it?  You  can  then  move  out 
briskly  and  make  time." 

Booth,  acting  upon  what  he  thought  at  the  time  an  ex- 
cellent suggestion,  in  a  few  moments  went  over  the  creek 
to  Lieutenant  Van  Antwerp's  camp,  to  tell  him  that  he 
need  not  wait  for  the  wagon  in  the  morning,  but  to  start 
out  early,  at  half-past  six,  in  advance. 

According  to  instructions,  the  escort  marched  out  of 
camp  at  daylight  next  morning,  while  Booth  and  Hallowell 
remained  to  finish  their  inspection.  It  was  soon  dis- 
covered, however,  that  either  Captain  Conkey  had  under- 
rated the  amount  of  work  to  be  done,  or  misjudged  the 
inspecting  officers'  ability  to  complete  it  in  a  certain  time; 


438  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

so  almost  three  hours  elapsed  after  the  cavalry  had  de- 
parted before  the  task  ended. 

At  last  everything  was  closed  up,  much  to  Hallowell's 
satisfaction,  who  had  been  chafing  under  the  vexatious 
delay  ever  since  the  escort  left.  When  all  was  in  readiness, 
the  little  wagon  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  commanding 
officer's  quarters,  and  farewells  said,  Hallowell  suggested 
to  Booth  the  propriety  of  taking  a  few  of  the  troops 
stationed  there  to  go  with  them  until  they  overtook  their 
own  escort,  which  mugt  now  be  several  miles  on  the  Trail 
to  Fort  Larned.  Booth  asked  Captain  Conkey  what  he 
thought  of  Hallowell's  suggestion.  Captain  Conkey  re- 
plied: "Oh!  there's  not  the  slightest  danger;  there  hasn't 
been  an  Indian  seen  around  here  for  over  ten  days." 

If  either  Booth  or  Hallowell  had  been  as  well  acquainted 
with  the  methods  and  character  of  the  plains  Indians  then 
as  they  afterward  became,  they  would  have  insisted  upon 
an  escort ;  but  both  were  satisfied  that  Captain  Conkey 
knew  what  he  was  talking  about,  so  they  concluded  to 
push  on. 

Jumping  into  their  wagon,  Lieutenant  Hallowell  took- 
the  reins  and  away  they  went  rattling  over  the  old  log 
bridge  that  used  to  span  the  Walnut  at  the  crossing  of  the 
Old  Santa  Fe  Trail,  as  light  of  heart  as  if  riding  to  a 
dance. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  clear  with  a  stiff  breeze 
blowing  from  the  northwest,  and  the  Trail  was  frozen  hard 
in  places,  which  made  it  very  rough,  as  it  had  been  cut  up 
by  the  travel  of  the  heavily  laden  caravans  when  it  was 
wet.  Booth  sat  on  the  left  side  of  Hallowell  with  the 
whip  in  his  hand,  now  and  then  striking  the  mules,  to  keep 
up  their  speed.  Hallowell  started  up  a  tune, — he  was 
a  good  singer,  —  and  Booth  joined  in  as  they  rolled  along, 
as  oblivious  of  any  danger  as  though  they  were  in  their 
quarters  at  Fort  Riley. 


A   DESPERATE   HIDE  439 

After  they  had  proceeded  some  distance,  Hallowell  re- 
marked to  Booth  :  "  The  buffalo  are  grazing  a  long  way 
from  the  road  to-day  ;  a  circumstance  that  I  think  bodes  no 
good."'  He  had  been  on  the  plains  the  summer  before,  and 
was  better  acquainted  with  the  Indians  and  their  pecul- 
iarities than  Captain  Booth  ;  but  the  latter  replied  that 
he  thought  it  was  because  their  escort  had  gone  on  ahead, 
and  had  probabty  frightened  them  off. 

The  next  mile  or  two  was  passed,  and  still  they  saw 
no  buffalo  between  the  Trail  and  the  Arkansas,  though 
nothing  more  was  said  by  either  regarding  the  suspicious 
circumstance,  and  they  rode  rapidly  on. 

When  they  had  gone  about  five  or  six  miles  from  the 
Walnut,  Booth,  happening  to  glance  toward  the  river,  saw 
something  that  looked  strangely  like  a  flock  of  turkeys.  He 
watched  them  intently  for  a  moment,  when  the  objects  rose 
up  and  he  discovered  they  were  horsemen.  He  grasped 
Hallowell  by  the  arm,  directing  his  attention  to  them,  and 
said,  "What  are  they?"  Hallowell  gave  a  hasty  "look 
toward  the  point  indicated,  and  replied,  "  Indians !  by 
George!"  and  immediately  turning  the  mules  around  on 
the  Trail,  started  them  back  toward  the  cantonment  on  the 
Walnut  at  a  full  gallop.1 

"  Hold  on  ! "  said  Booth  to  Hallowell  when  he  under- 
stood the  latter's  movement;  "maybe  it's  part  of  our 
escort." 

"No!  no!"  replied  Hallowell.  "I  know  they  are  Ind- 
ians;   I've  seen  too  many  of  them  to  be  mistaken." 

"Well,"    rejoined    Booth,    "I'm    going    to    know    for 

certain  ;  "  so,  stepping  out  on  the  foot-board,  and  with  one 

Jrand  holding  on  to  the  front  bow,  he  looked  back  over  the 

top  of  the  wagon-sheet.     They  were  Indians,  sure  enough  ; 

1  The  place  where  they  turned  is  about  a  hundred  yards  east  of  the 
Court  House  Square,  in  the  present  town  of  Great  Bend ;  it  may  be  seen 
from  the  cars. 


440  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

they  had  fully  emerged  from  the  ravine  in  which  they  had 
hidden,  and  while  he  was  looking  at  them  they  were  slip- 
ping- off  their  buffalo  robes  from  their  shoulders,  taking 
arrows  out  of  their  quivers,  drawing  up  their  spears,  and 
making  ready  generally  for  a  red-hot  time. 

While  Bootli  was  intently  regarding  the  movements 
of  the  savages,  Hallowed  inquired  of  him :  "  They're 
Indians,  aren't  they,  Booth  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  Booth's  answer,  "  and  they're  coming  down 
on  us  like  a  whirlwind." 

"  Then  I  shall  never  see  poor  Lizzie  again !  "  said  Hallo- 
well.  He  had  been  married  only  a  few  weeks  before 
starting  out  on  this  trip,  and  his  young  wife's  name  came 
to  his  lips. 

"  Never  mind  Lizzie,"  responded  Booth  ;  "  let's  get  out 
of  here !  "  He  was  as  badly  frightened  as  Hallowed,  but 
had  no  bride  at  Riley,  and,  as  he  tells  it,  "  was  selfishly 
thinking  of  himself  only,  and  escape." 

In  answer  to  Booth's  remark,  Hallowed,  in  a  firm,  clear 
voice,  said:  "All  right!  You  do  the  shooting,  and  I'll  do 
the  driving,"  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  he 
snatched  the  whip  out  of  Booth's  hand,  slipped  from  the 
seat  to  the  front  of  the  wagon,  and  commenced  lashing 
the  mules  furiously. 

Booth  then  crawled  back,  pulled  out  one  of  his  re- 
volvers, crept,  or  rather  fell,  over  the  "  lazy-back  "  of  the 
seat,  and  reaching  the  hole  made  by  puckering  the  wagon- 
sheet,  looked  out  of  it,  and  counted  the  Indians ;  thirty- 
four  feather-bedecked,  paint-bedaubed  savages,  as  vicious  a 
set  as  ever  scalped  a  white  man,  swooping  down  on  them 
like  a  hawk  upon  a  chicken. 

Hallowed,  between  his  yells  at  the  mules,  cried  out, 
"  How  far  are  they  off  now,  Booth  ? "  for  of  course  he 
could  see  nothing'  of  what  was  going'  on  in  his  rear. 

Booth  replied  as  well  as  he  could  judge  of  the  distance, 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  441 

while  Hallowell  renewed  his  yelling  at  the  animals  and 
redoubled  his  efforts  with  the  lash. 

Noiselessly  the  Indians  gained  on  the  little  wagon,  for 
they  had  not  as  yet  uttered  a  whoop,  and  the  determined 
driver,  anxious  to  know  how  far  the  red  devils  were  from 
him,  again  asked  Booth.  The  latter  told  him  how  near 
they  were,  guessing  at  the  distance,  from  which  Hallowell 
gathered  inspiration  for  fresh  cries  and  still  more  vigorous 
blows  with  his  whip. 

Booth,  all  this  time,  was  sitting  on  the  box  containing 
the  crackers  and  sardines,  watching  the  rapid  approach 
of  the  cut-throats,  and  seeing  with  fear  and  trembling  the 
ease  with  which  they  gained  upon  the  little  mules. 

Once  more  Hallowell  made  his  stereotyped  inquiry  of 
Booth ;  but  before  the  latter  could  reply,  two  shots  were 
fired  from  the  rifles  of  the  Indians,  accompanied  by  a  yell 
that  was  demoniacal  enough  to  cause  the  blood  to  curdle 
in  one's  veins.  Hallowell  yelled  at  the  mules,  and  Booth 
yelled  too ;  for  what  reason  he  could  not  tell,  unless  to 
keep  company  with  his  comrade,  who  plied  the  whip  more 
mercilessly  than  ever  upon  the  poor  animals'  backs,  and 
the  wagon  flew  over  the  rough  road,  nearly  upsetting  at 
every  jump. 

In  another  moment  the  bullets  from  two  of  the  Indians' 
rifles  passed  between  Booth  and  Hallowell,  doing  no  dam- 
age, and  almost  instantly  the  savages  charged  upon  them, 
at  the  same  time  dividing  into  two  parties,  one  going  on 
one  side  and  one  on  the  other,  both  delivering  a  volley  of 
arrows  into  the  wagon  as  they  rode  by. 

Just  as  the  savages  rushed  past  the  wagon,  Hallowell 
.pried  out  to  Booth,  "  Cap,  I'm  hit ! "  and  turning  around 
to  look,  Booth  saw  an  arrow  sticking  in  Hallowell's  head 
above  his  right  ear.  His  arm  was  still  plying  the  whip, 
which  was  going  on  unceasingly  as  the  sails  of  a  windmill, 
and  his  howling  at  the  mules  only  stopped  long  enough  to 


442  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

answer,  "Not  much!"  in  response  to  Booth's  inquiry  of 
"Does  it  hurt?"  as  he  grabbed  the  arrow  and  pulled  it 
out  of  his  head. 

The  Indians  had  by  this  time  passed  on,  and  then,  cir- 
cling back,  prepared  for  another  charge.  Down  they  came, 
again  dividing  as  before  into  two  bands,  and  delivering 
another  shower  of  arrows.  Hallowell  ceased  his  yelling 
long  enough  to  cry  out,  "  I'm  hit  once  more,  Cap ! '" 
Looking  at  the  plucky  driver,  Booth  saw  this  time  an 
arrow  sticking  over  his  left  ear,  and  hanging  down  his 
back.  He  snatched  it  out,  inquiring  if  it  hurt,  but  received 
the  same  answer  :  "  No,  not  much." 

.  Both  men  were  now  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices ; 
and  the  mules  were  jerking  the  wagon  along  the  rough  trail 
at  a  fearful  rate,  frightened  nearly  out  of  their  wits  at  the 
sight  of  the  Indians  and  the  terrible  shouting  and  whipping 
of  the  driver. 

Booth  crawled  to  the  back  end  of  the  wagon  again, 
looked  out  of  the  hole  in  the  cover,  and  saw  the  Indians 
moving  across  the  Trail,  preparing  for  another  charge.  One 
old  fellow,  mounted  on  a  black  pony,  was  jogging  along  in 
the  centre  of  the  road  behind  them,  but  near  enough  and 
evidently  determined  to  send  an  arrow  through  the  puck- 
ered hole  of  the  sheet.  In  a  moment  the  savage  stopped 
his  pony  and  let  fly.  Booth  dodged  sideways,  —  the 
arrow  sped  on  its  course,  and  whizzing  through  the 
opening,  struck  the  black-walnut  "  lazy-back  "  of  the  seat, 
the  head  sticking  out  on  the  other  side,  and  the  sudden 
check  causing  the  feathered  end  to  vibrate  rapidly  with 
a  vro-o-o-ing  sound.  With  a  quick  blow  Booth  struck  it, 
and  broke  the  shaft  from  the  head,  leaving  the  latter 
embedded  in  the  wood. 

As  quickly  as  possible,  Booth  rushed  to  the  hole  and 
fired  his  revolver  at  the  old  devil,  but  failed  to  hit  him. 
While  he  was  trying  to  get  in  another  shot,  an  arrow 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  443 

came  flying  through  from  the  left  side  of  the  Trail,  and 
striking  him  on  the  inside  of  the  elbow,  or  "  crazy-bone," 
so  completely  benumbed  his  hand  that  he  could  not  hold 
on  to  the  pistol,  and  it  dropped  into  the  road  with  one 
load  still  in  its  chamber.  Just  then  the  mules  gave  an 
extraordinary  jump  to  one  side,  which  jerked  the  wagon 
nearly  from  under  him,  and  he  fell  sprawling  on  the  end- 
gate,  evenly  balanced,  with  his  hands  on  the  outside, 
attempting  to  clutch  at  something  to  save  himself !  Seeing 
his  predicament,  the  Indians  thought  they  had  him  sure, 
so  they  gave  a  yell  of  exultation,  supposing  he  must 
tumble  out,  but  he  didn't;  he  fortunately  succeeded  in 
grabbing  one  of  the  wagon-bows  with  his  right  hand  and 
pulled  himself  in  ;  but  it  was  a  close  call. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  Hallowell  had  not  been 
neglected  by  the  Indians ;  about  a  dozen  of  them  had 
devoted  their  time  to  him,  but  he  never  flinched.  Just  as 
Booth  had  regained  his  equilibrium  and  drawn  his  second 
revolver  from  its  holster,  Hallowell  yelled  to  him  :  "  Right 
off  to  your  right,  Cap,  quick ! " 

Booth  tumbled  over  the  back  of  the  seat,  and,  clutching 
at  a  wagon-bow  to  steady  himself,  he  saw,  "  off  to  the 
right,"  an  Indian  who  was  in  the  act  of  letting  an  arrow 
drive  at  Hallowell ;  it  struck  the  side  of  the  box,  and  at 
the  same  instant  Booth  fired,  scaring  the  red  devil  badly. 

Back  over  the  seat  again  he  rushed  to  guard  the  rear, 
only  to  find  a  young  buck  riding  close  to  the  side  of 
the  wagon,  his  pony  running  in  the  deep  path  made  by 
the  ox-drivers  in  walking  alongside  of  their  teams. 
Putting  his  left  arm  around  one  of  the  wagon-bows  to 
prevent  his  being  jerked  out,  Booth  quietly  stuck  his 
revolver  through  the  hole  in  the  sheet;  but  before  he 
could  pull  the  trigger,  the  Indian  flopped  over  on  the 
off  side  of  his  pony,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  of  him 
excepting  one   arm  around   his  animal's  neck  and  from 


444  THE   OED   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

the  knee  to  the  toes  of  one  leg.  Booth  did  not  wait  for 
him  to  ride  up ;  he  could  almost  hit  the  pony's  head  with 
his  hand,  so  close  was  he  to  the  wagon.  Booth  struck  at 
the  beast  several  times,  but  the  Indian  kept  him  right  up 
in  his  place  by  whipping  him  on  the  opposite  of  his  neck. 
Presently  the  plucky  savage's  arm  began  to  move.  Booth 
watched  him  intently,  and  saw  that  he  had  fixed  an  arrow 
in  his  bow  under  the  pony's  shoulder ;  just  as  he  was  on 
the  point  of  letting  go  the  bowstring,  with  the  head  of 
the  arrow  not  three  feet  from  Booth's  breast  as  he  leaned 
out  of  the  hole,  the  latter  struck  frantically  at  the  weapon, 
dodged  back  into  the  wagon,  and  up  came  the  Indian. 
Whenever  Booth  looked  out,  down  went  the  Indian  on 
the  other  side  of  his  pony,  to  rise  again  in  a  moment,  and 
Booth,  afraid  to  risk  himself  with  his  head  and  breast 
exposed  at  this  game  of  hide  and  seek,  drew  suddenly 
back  as  the  Indian  went  down  the  third  time,  and  in  a 
second  came  up  ;  but  this  was  once  too  often.  Booth  had 
not  dodged  completely  into  the  wagon,  nor  dropped  his 
revolver,  and  as  the  Indian  rose  he  fired. 

The  savage  was  naked  to  the  waist;  the  ball  struck  him 
in  the  left  nipple,  the  blood  spirted  out  of  the  wound,  his 
bow  and  arrows  and  lariat,  with  himself,  rolled  off  the 
pony,  falling  heavily  on  the  ground,  and  with  one  convuh 
sive  contraction  of  his  legs  and  an  "  Ugh  !  "  he  was  as  dead 
as  a  stone. 

"  I've  killed  one  of  'em  !  "  called  out  Booth  to  Hallowell, 
as  he  saw  his  victim  tumble  from  his  pony. 

"  Bully  for  you,  Cap ! "  came  Hallowell's  response  as 
he  continued  his  shouting,  and  the  blows  of  that  tireless 
whip  fell  incessantly  on  the  backs  of  the  poor  mules. 

After  he  had  killed  the  warrior,  Booth  kept  his  seat  on 
the  cracker  box,  watching  to  see  what  the  Indians  were 
going  to  do  next,  when  he  was  suddenly  interrupted  by 
Hallowell's  crying  out  to  him:  "Off  to  the  right  again, 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  445 

Cap,  quick!  "and,  whirling  around,  instantly,  he  saw  an 
Indian  within  three  feet  of  the  wagon,  with  his  bow  and 
arrow  almost  ready  to  shoot;  there  was  no  time  to  get  over 
the  seat,  and  as  he  could  not  fire  so  close  to  Hallowell,  he 
cried  to  the  latter:  "Hit' him  with  the  whip!  Hit  him 
with  the  whip!"  The  lieutenant  diverted  one  of  the 
blows  intended  for  the  mules,  and  struck  the  savage  fairly 
across  the  face.  The  whip  had  a  knot  in  the  end  of  it  to 
prevent  its  unravelling,  and  this  knot  must  have  hit  the 
Indian  squarely  in  the  eye;  for  he  dropped  his  bow,  put 
both  hands  up  to  his  face,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  digging 
his  heels  into  his  pony's  sides  was  soon  out  of  range  of  a 
revolver;  but,  nevertheless,  he  was  given  a  parting  shot 
as  a  sort  of  salute. 

A  terrific  yell  from  the  rear  at  this  moment  caused  both 
Booth  and  Hallowell  to  look  around,  and  the  latter  to 
inquire:  "What's  the  matter  now,  Booth?"  "They  are 
coming  down  on  us  like  lightning,"  said  he;  and,  sure 
enough,  those  who  had  been  prancing  around  their  dead 
comrade  were  tearing  along  the  Trail  toward  the  wagon 
with  a  more  hideous  noise  than  when  they  began. 

Hallowell  yelled  louder  than  ever  and  lashed  the  mules 
more  furiously  still,  but  the  Indians  gained  upon  them 
as  easily  as  a  blooded  racer  on  a  common  farm  plug.  Sepa- 
rating as  before,  and  passing  on  each  side  of  the  wagon, 
they  delivered  another  volley  of  bullets  and  arrows  as  they 
rushed  on. 

When  this  charge  was  made,  Booth  drew  away  from  the 
hole  in  the  rear  and  turned  toward  the  Indians,  but  forgot 
that  as  he  was  sitting,  with  his  back  pressed  against  the 
sheet,  his  body  was  plainly  outlined  on  the  canvas. 

When  the  Indians  dashed  by  Hallowell  cried  out,  "I'm 
hit  again,  Cap!"  and  Booth,  in  turning  around  to  go  to 
his  relief,  felt  something  pulling  at  him;  and  glancing 
over  his  left  shoulder  he  discovered  an  arrow  sticking 


446  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

into  him  and  out  through  the  wagon-sheet.  With  a  jerk 
of  his  body,  he  tore  himself  loose,  and  going  to  Hallowell, 
asked  him  where  he  was  hit.  "In  the  back,"  was  the  re- 
ply; where  Booth  saw  an  arrow  extending  under  the 
"lazy-back"  of  the  seat.  Taking  hold  of  it,  Booth  gave 
a  pull,  but  Hallowell  squirmed  so  that  he  desisted..,, 
"Pull  it  out!  "  cried  the  plucky  driver.  Booth  thereupon 
took  hold  of  it  again,  and  giving  a  jerk  or  two,  out  it 
came.  He  was  thoroughly  frightened  as  he  saw  it  leave 
the  lieutenant's  body ;  it  seemed  to  have  entered  at  least 
six  inches,  and  the  wound  appeared  to  be  a  dangerous 
one.  Hallowell,  however,  did  not  cease  for  a  moment 
belabouring  the  mules,  and  his  yells  rang  out  as  clear 
and  defiant  as  before. 

After  extracting  the  arrow  from  Hallowell's  back,  Booth 
turned  again  to  the  opening  in  the  rear  of  the  wagon  to  see 
what  new  tricks  the  devils  were  up  to,  when  Hallowell 
again  called  out,  "  Off  to  the  left,  Cap,  quick !  " 

Rushing  to  the  front  as  soon  as  possible,  Booth  saw  one 
of  the  savages  in  the  very  act  of  shooting  at  Hallowell 
from  the  left  side  of  the  wagon,  not  ten  feet  away.  The 
last  revolver  was  empty,  but  something  had  to  be  done  at 
once;  so,  levelling  the  weapon  at  him,  Booth  shouted 
"Bang!  you  son-of-a-gun ! "  Down  the  Indian  ducked 
his  head;  rap,  rap,  went  his  knees  against  his  pony's 
sides,  and  away  he  flew  over  the  prairie! 

Back  to  his  old  place  in  the  rear  tumbled  Booth,  to  load 
his  revolver.  The  cartridges  they  used  in  the  army  in 
those  days  were  the  old-fashioned  kind  made  of  paper. 
Biting  off  one  end,  he  endeavoured  to  pour  the  powder  into 
the  chamber  of  the  pistol ;  but  as  the  wagon  was  tumbling 
from  side  to  side,  and  jumping  up  and  down,  as  it  fairly 
flew  over  the  rough  Trail,  more  fell  into  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon  than  into  the  revolver.  Just  as  he  was  insert- 
ing a  ball,  Hallowell  yelled,  "To  the  left,  Cap,  quick!" 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  447 

Over  the  seat  Booth  piled  once  more,  and  there  was 
another  Indian  with  his  bow  and  arrow  all  ready  to  pinion 
the  brave  lieutenant.  Pointing  his  revolver  at  him,  Booth 
yelled  as  he  had  at  the  other,  but  this  savage  had  evidently 
noticed  the  first  failure,  and  concluded  there  were  no  more 
Joads  left;  so,  instead  of  taking  a  hasty  departure,  he 
grinned  demoniacally  and  endeavoured  to  fix  the  arrow  in 
his  bow.  Booth  rose  up  in  the  wagon,  and  grasping  hold 
of  one  of  its  bows  with  his  left  hand,  seized  the  revolver 
by  the  muzzle,  and  with  all  the  force  he  could  muster 
hurled  it  at  the  impudent  brute.  It  was  a  Remington, 
its  barrel  octagon-shaped,  with  sharp  corners,  and  when 
it  was  thrown,  it  turned  in  the  air,  and  striking  the 
Indian  muzzle-first  on  the  ribs,  cut  a  long  gash. 

"Ugh!"  he  grunted,  as,  dropping  his  bow  and  spear, 
he  flung  himself  over  the  side  of  his  pony,  and  away  he 
went  across  the  prairie. 

Only  one  revolver  remaining  now,  and  that  empty,  with 
the  savages  still  howling  around  the  apparently  doomed 
men  like  so  many  demons !  Booth  fell  over  the  seat,  as 
was  his  usual  fate  whenever  he  attempted  to  get  to  the 
back  of  the  wagon,  picked  up  the  empty  revolver,  and  tried 
to  load  it ;  but  before  he  could  bite  the  end  of  a  cartridge, 
Hallowell  yelled,   "Cap,  I'm  hit  again!" 

"Where  this  time?"  inquired  Booth,  anxiously.  "In 
the  hand,"  replied  Hallowell;  and,  looking  around,  Booth 
noticed  that  although  his  right  arm  was  still  thrashing  at 
the  now  lagging  mules  with  as  much  energy  as  ever, 
through  the  fleshy  part  of  the  thumb  was  an  arrow,  which 
was  flopping  up  and  down  as  he  raised  and  lowered  his 
hand  in  ceaseless  efforts  to  keep  up  the  speed  of  the 
almost  exhausted  animals. 

"Let  me  pull  it  out,"  said  Booth,  as  he  came  forward 
to  do  so. 

"No,  never  mind, "replied  Hallowell;  "can't  stop!  can't 


448  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

stop!  "  and  up  and  down  went  the  arm,  and  flip,  flap,  went 
the  arrow  with  it,  until  finally  it  tore  through  the  flesh 
and  fell  to  the  ground. 

Along  they  bowled,  the  Indians  yelling,  and  the  occu- 
pants of  the  little  wagon  defiantly  answering  them,  while 
Booth  continued  to  struggle  desperately  with  that  empty* 
pistol,  in  his  vain  efforts  to  load  it.  In  another  moment 
Hallowell  shouted,  "Booth,  they  are  trying  to  crowd  the 
mules  into  the  sunflowers !  " 

Alongside  of  the  Trail  huge  sunflowers  had  grown  the 
previous  summer,  and  now  their  dry  stalks  stood  as  thick 
as  a  cane-brake ;  if  the  wagon  once  got  among  them,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  the  mules  to  keep  up  their  gallop. 
The  savages  seemed  to  realize  this ;  for  one  huge  old 
fellow  kept  riding  alongside  the  off  mule,  throwing  his 
spear  at  him  and  then  jerking  it  back  with  the  thong, 
one  end  of  which  was  fastened  to  his  wrist.  The  near 
mule  was  constantly  pushed  further  and  further  from  the 
Trail  by  his  mate,  which  was  jumping  frantically,  scared 
out  of  his  senses  by  the  Indian. 

At  this  perilous  juncture,  Booth  stepped  out  on  the 
foot-board  of  the  wagon,  and,  holding  on  by  a  bow,  com- 
menced to  kick  the  frightened  mule  vigorously,  while 
Hallowell  pulled  on  one  line,  whipping  and  yelling  at  the 
same  time;  so  together  they  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
animals  back  into  the  Trail. 

The  Indians  kept  close  to  the  mules  in  their  efforts  to 
force  them  into  the  sunflowers,  and  Booth  made  several 
attempts  to  scare  the  old  fellow  that  was  nearest  b}'  point- 
ing his  empty  revolver  at  him,  but  he  would  not  scare ;  so 
in  his  desperation  Booth  threw  it  at  him.  He  missed  the 
old  brute,  but  hit  his  pony  just  behind  its  rider's  leg, 
which  started  the  animal  into  a  sort  of  a  stampede ;  his 
ugly  master  could  not  control  him,  and  thus  the  imme- 
diate peril  from  the  persistent  cuss  was  delayed. 


A   DESPERATE    RIDE  449 

Now  the  pair  were  absolutely  without  firearms  of  any 
kind,  with  nothing  left  except  their  sabres  and  valises, 
and  the  savages  came  closer  and  closer.  In  turn  the  two 
swords  were  thrown  at  them  as  they  came  almost  within 
striking  distance ;  then  followed  the  scabbards,  as  the  howl- 
ing fiends  surrounded  the  wagon  and  attempted  to  spear 
the  mules.     Fortunately  their  arrows  were  exhausted. 

The  cantonment  on  the  Walnut  was  still  a  mile  and  a 
half  away,  and  there  was  nothing  for  our  luckless  travel- 
lers to  do  but  whip  and  kick,  both  of  which  they  did  most 
vigorously.  Hallowell  sat  as  immovable  as  the  Sphinx, 
excepting  his  right  arm,  which  from  the  moment  they 
had  started  on  the  back  trail  had  not  once  ceased  its 
incessant  motion. 

Happening  to  cast  his  eyes  back  on  the  Trail,  Booth  saw 
to  his  dismay  twelve  or  fifteen  of  the  savages-  coming  up 
on  the  run  with  fresh  energy,  their  spears  poised  ready  for 
action,  and  he  felt  that  something  must  be  done  very 
speedily  to  divert  them ;  for  if  these  added  their  number 
to  those  already  surrounding  the  wagon,  the  chances 
were  they,  would  succeed  in  forcing  the  mules  into  the 
sunflowers,  and  his  scalp  and  Hallowell's  would  dangle 
at  the  belt  of  the  leader. 

Glancing  around  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  for  some 
kind  of  weapon,  his  eye  fell  on  the  two  valises  contain- 
ing the  dress-suits.  He  snatched  up  his  own,  and  threw 
it  out  while  the  pursuers  were  yet  five  or  six  rods  in  the 
rear.  The  Indians  noticed  this  new  trick  with  a  great 
yell  of  satisfaction,  and  the  moment  they  arrived  at  the 
spot  where  the  valise  lay,  all  dismounted;  one  of  them, 
seizing  it  by  the  two  handles,  pulled  with  all  his  strength 
to  open  it,  and  when  he  failed,  another  drew  a  long  knife 
from  under  his  blanket  and  ripped  it  apart.  He  then  put 
his  hand  in,  pulling  out  a  sash,  which  he  began  to  wind 
around  his  head,  like  a  negress  with  a  bandanna,  letting 
2g 


450  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE  TRAIL 

the  tassels  hang  clown  his  back.  While  he  was  thus 
amusing  himself,  one  of  the  others  had  taken  out  a  dress- 
coat,  a  third  a  pair  of  drawers,  and  still  another  a  shirt, 
which  they  proceeded  to  put  on,  meanwhile  dancing 
around  and  howling. 

Booth  told  Hallowell  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  valise, 
and  said,  "I'm  going  to  throw  out  yours."  "All  right," 
replied  Hallowell;  "all  we  want  is  time."  So  out  it  went 
on  the  Trail,  and  shared  the  same  fate  as  the  other. 

The  lull  in  hostilities  caused  by  their  outstripping  their 
pursuers  gave  the  almost  despairing  men  time  to  talk  over 
their  situation.  Hallowell  said  he  did  not  propose  to  be 
captured  and  then  butchered  or  burned  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  Indians.  He  said  to  Booth :  "  If  they  kill  one  of  the 
mules,  and  so  stop  us,  let's  kick,  strike,  throw  dirt  or 
anything,  and  compel  them  to  kill  us  on  the  spot."  So 
it  was  agreed,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  to  stand 
back  to  back  and  fight. 

During  this  discussion  the  arm  of  Hallowell  still  plied 
the  effective  lash,  and  they  drew  perceptibly  nearer  the 
camp,  and  as  thej'  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  its  tents 
and  dugouts,  hope  sprang  up  within  them.  The  mules 
were  panting  like  a  hound  after  a  deer;  wherever  the 
harness  touched  them,  it  was  white  with  lather,  and  it 
was  evident  they  could  keep  on  their  feet  but  a  short 
time  longer.  Would  they  hold  out  until  the  bridge  was 
reached?  The  whipping  and  the  kicking  had  but  little 
effect  on  them  now.  They  still  continued  their  gallop, 
but  it  was  slower  and  more  laboured  than  before. 

The  Indians  who  had  torn  open  the  valises  had  not 
returned  to  the  chase,  and  although  there  Avere  still  a 
sufficient  number  of  the  fiends  pursuing  to  make  it  inter- 
esting, they  did  not  succeed  in  spearing  the  mules,  as  at 
every  attempt  the  plucky  animals  would  jump  sideways 
or  forward  and  evade  the  impending  blow. 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  451 

The  little  log  bridge  was  reached;  the  savages  had  all 
retreated,  but  the  valorous  Hallowell  kept  the  mules  at 
their  fastest  pace.  The  bridge  was  constructed  of  half- 
round  logs,  and  of  course  was  extremely  rough;  the  wagon 
bounded  up  and  down  enough  to  shake  the  teeth  out  of 
one's  head  as  the  little  animals  went  flying  over  it. 
Booth  called  out  to  Hallowell,  "No  need  to  drive  so  fast 
now,  the  Indians  have  all  left  us ; "  but  he  replied,  "  I 
ain't  going  to  stop  until  I  get  across ; "  and  down  came  the 
whip,  on  sped  the  mules,  not  breaking  their  short  gallop 
until  they  were  pulled  up  in  front  of  Captain  Conkey's 
quarters. 

The  rattling  of  the  wagon  on  the  bridge  was  the  first 
intimation  the  garrison  had  of  its  return. 

The  officers  came  running  out  of  their  tents,  the  enlisted 
men  poured  out  of  their  dugouts  like  a  lot  of  ants,  and 
Booth  and  Hallowell  were  surrounded  by  their  friends  in 
a  moment.  Captain  Conkey  ordered  his  bugler  to  sound 
"Boots  and  Saddles,"  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  ninety 
troopers  were  mounted,  and  with  the  captain  at  their  head 
started  after  the  Indians. 

When  Hallowell  tried  to  rise  from  his  seat  so  as  to  get 
out  every  effort  only  resulted  in  his  falling  back.  Some 
one  stepped  around  to  the  other  side  to  assist  him,  when 
it  was  discovered  that  the  skirt  of  his  overcoat  had  worked 
outside  of  the  wagon-sheet  and  hung  over  the  edge,  and 
that  three  or  four  of  the  arrows  fired  at  him  by  the 
savages  had  struck  the  side  of  the  wagon,  and,  passing 
through  the  flap  of  his  coat,  had  pinned  him  down.  Booth 
pulled  the  arrows  out  and  helped  him  up ;  he  was  pretty 
stiff  from  sitting  in  his  cramped  position  so  long,  and  his 
right  arm  dropped  by  his  side  as  if  paralysed. 

Booth  stood  looking  on  while  his  comrade's  wounds 
were  being  dressed,  when  the  adjutant  asked  him  :  "  What 
makes  you  shrug  your  shoulder  so  ?  "     He  answered,  "  I 


452  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

don't  know ;  something  makes  it  smart."  The  officer 
looked  at  him  and  said,  "  Well,  I  don't  wonder ;  I  should 
think  it  would  smart ;  here's  an  arrow-head  sticking  into 
you,"  and  he  tried  to  pull  it  out,  but  it  would  not  come. 
Captain  Goldsborough  then  attempted  it,  but  was  not  any 
more  successful.  The  doctor  then  told  them  to  let  it 
alone,  and  he  would  attend  to  Booth  after  he  had  done 
with  Hallowell.  When  he  examined  Booth's  shoulder, 
he  found  that  the  arrow-head  had  struck  the  thick  portion 
of  the  shoulder-blade,  and  had  made  two  complete  turns, 
wrapping  itself  around  the  muscles,  which  had  to  be  cut 
apart  before  the  sharp  point  could  be  withdrawn. 

Booth  was  not  seriously  hurt.  Hallowell,  however,  had 
received  two  severe  wounds  ;  the  arrow  that"  had  lodged 
in  his  back  had  penetrated  almost  to  his  kidneys,  and  the 
wound  in  his  thumb  was  very  painful,  not  so  much  from 
the  simple  impact  of  the  arrow  as  from  the  tearing  away 
of  the  muscle  by  the  shaft  while  he  was  whipping  his 
mules ;  his  right  arm,  too,  was  swollen  terribly,  and  so  stiff 
from  the  incessant  use  of  it  during  the  drive  that  for  more 
than  a  month  he  required  assistance  in  dressing  and  un- 
dressing. 

The  mules  who  had  saved  their  lives  were  of  small 
account  after  their  memorable  trip ;  they  remained  stiff 
and  sore  from  the  rough  road  and  their  continued  forced 
speed.  Booth  and  Hallowell  went  out  to  look  at  them 
the  next  morning,  as  they  hobbled  around  the  corral,  and 
from  the  bottom  of  their  hearts  wished  them  well. 

Captain  Conkey's  command  returned  to  the  cantonment 
about  midnight.  But  one  Indian  had  been  seen,  and  he 
was  south  of  the  Arkansas  in  the  sand  hills. 

The  next  morning  a  scouting-party  of  forty  men,  under 
command  of  a  sergeant,  started  out  to  scour  the  country 
toward  Cow  Creek,  northeast  from  the  Walnut. 

As  I  have  stated,  the  troopers  stationed  at  the  canton- 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE  453 

ment  on  the  Walnut  were  mostly  recruits.  Now  the 
cavalry  recruit  of  the  old  regular  army  on  the  frontier, 
thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  mounted  on  a  great  big  American 
horse  and  sent  out  with  well-trained  comrades  on  a  scout 
after  the  hostile  savages  of  the  plains,  was  the  most 
helpless  individual  imaginable.  Coining  fresh  from  some 
large  city  probably,  as  soon  as  he  arrived  at  his  station 
he  was  placed  on  the  back  of  an  animal  of  whose  habits  he 
knew  as  little  as  he  did  of  the  differential  calculus  ;  loaded 
down  with  a  carbine,  the  muzzle  of  which  he  could  hardly 
distinguish  from  the  breech ;  a  sabre  buckled  around  his 
waist ;  a  couple  of  enormous  pistols  stuck  in  his  holsters ; 
his  blankets  strapped  to  the  cantle  of  his  saddle,  and,  to 
complete  the  hopelessness  of  his  condition  in  a  possible 
encounter  with  a  savage  enemy  who  was  ever  on  the  alert, 
he  was  often  handicapped  by  a  camp-kettle  or  two,  a 
frying-pan,  and  ten  days'  rations.  No  wonder  this  doughty 
representative  of  Uncle  Sam's  power  was  an  easy  prey  for 
"  Poor  Lo,"  who,  when  he  caught  the  unfortunate  soldier 
away  from  his  command  and  started  after  him,  must  have 
laughed  at  the  ridiculous  appearance  of  his  enemy,  with 
both  hands  glued  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  his  hair  on 
end,  his  sabre  flying  and  striking  his  horse  at  every  jump 
as  the  animal  tore  down  the  trail  toward  camp,  while  the 
Indian,  rapidly  gaining,  in  a  few  minutes  had  the  scalp  of 
the  hapless  rider  dangling  at  his  belt,  and  another  of  the 
"  boys  in  blue  "  had  joined  the  majority. 

The  scouting-party  had  proceeded  about  four  or  five 
miles,  when  one  of  the  corporals  asked  permission  for  him- 
self and  a  recruit  to  go  over  to  the  Upper  Walnut  to  find 
out  whether  they  could  discover  any  signs  of  Indians. 

While  they  were  carelessly  riding  along  the  big  curve 
which  the  northern  branch  of  the  Walnut  makes  at  that 
point,  there  suddenly  sprang  from  their  ambush  in  the 
timber  on  the  margin  of  the  stream  about  three  hundred 


454  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

Indians,  whooping  and  yelling.  The  two  troopers,  of 
course,  immediately  whirled  their  horses  and  started  down 
the  creek  toward  the  camp,  hotly  pursued  by  the  howling 
savages. 

The  corporal  was  an  excellent  rider;  a  well-trained 
and  disciplined  soldier,  having  seen  much  service  on  the 
plains.  He  led  in  the  flight,  closely  followed  by  the  un- 
fortunate recruit,  who  had  been  enlisted  but  a  short  time. 
Not  more  than  an  eighth  of  a  mile  had  been  covered,  when 
the  corporal  heard  his  companion  exclaim,  — 

"  Don't  leave  me  !     Don't  leave  me  !  " 

Looking  back,  the  corporal  saw  that  the  poor  recruit 
was  losing  ground  rapidly;  his  horse  was  rearing  and 
plunging,  making  very  little  headway,  while  his  rider  was 
jerking  and  pulling  on  the  bit,  a  curb  of  the  severest  kind. 
Perceiving  the  strait  his  comrade  was  in,  the  corporal 
reined  up  for  a  moment  and  called  out,  — 

"  Let  him  go !     Let  him  go !     Don't  jerk  on  the  bit  so !  " 

The  Indians  were  gaining  ground  rapidly,  and  in  an- 
other moment  the  corporal  heard  the  recruit  again  cry 
out, — 

"Oh!  Don't—" 

Realizing  that  it  would  be  fatal  to  delay,  and  that  he 
could  be  of  no  assistance  to  his  companion,  already  killed 
and  scalped,  he  leaned  forward  on  his  horse,  and  sinking 
his  spurs  deep  in  the  animal's  flanks  fairly  flew  down  the 
valley,  with  the  three  hundred  savages  close  in  his  wake. 

The  officers  at  the  camp  were  sitting  in  their  tents  when 
the  sentinel  on  post  No.  1  fired  his  piece,  upon  which 
all  rushed  out  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  alarm;  for  there 
was  no  random  shooting  in  those  days  allowed  around 
camp  or  in  garrison.  Looking  up  the  valley  of  the  Wal- 
nut, they  could  see  the  lucky  corporal,  with  his  long  hair 
streaming  in  the  wind,  and  his  heels  rapping  his  horse's 
sides,  as  he  dashed  over  the  brown  sod  of  the  winter  prairie. 


A   DESPERATE   RIDE 


455 


The  corporal  now  slackened  his  pace,  rode  up  to  the 
commanding  officer's  tent,  reported  the  affair,  and  then 
was  allowed  to  go  to  his  own  quarters  for  the  rest  he  so 
much  needed. 

Captain  Conkey  immediately  ordered  a  mounted  squad, 
accompanied  by  an  ambulance,  to  go  up  the  creek  to 
recover  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  recruit.  The  party 
were  absent  a  little  over  an  hour,  and  brought  back  with 
them  the  remains  of  the  dead  soldier.  He  had  been  shot 
with  an  arrow,  the  point  of  which  was  still  sticking  out 
through  his  breast-bone.  His  scalp  had  been  torn  com- 
pletely off,  and  the  lapels  of  his  coat  and  the  legs  of  his 
trousers  carried  away  by  the  savages.  He  was  buried  the 
next  morning  with  military  honours,  in  the  little  graveyard 
on  the  bank  of  the  Walnut,  where  his  body  still  rests  in 
the  dooryard  of  the  ranch. 


7fie  O/d  Way  6ytf/c  Over/and  (oacff 
60  Mi/g  m  24  Hours 


CHAPTER   XXIII 


GENERAL  HANCOCK  S  EXPEDITION  AGAINST  THE  PLAINS    INDIANS 

TERRIBLE   SNOW-STORM  AT  FORT  LARNED MEETING  WITH 

THE      CHIEFS     OF     THE     DOG-SOLDIERS BULL     BEAR'S     DIPLO- 
MACY  MEETING   OF    THE    UNITED    STATES    TROOPS    AND    THE 

SAVAGES   IN   LINE   OF   BATTLE CUSTER'S  NIGHT   EXPERIENCE 

THE     SURGEON     AND     DOG     STEW DESTRUCTION     OF     THE 

VILLAGE     BY     FIRE GENERAL      SULLY'S     FIGHT     WITH     THE 

KIOWAS,  COMANCHES,  AND  ARAPAHOES FINDING  THE   SKELE- 
TONS   OF    THE    UNFORTUNATE    MEN THE    SAVAGES'     REPORT 

OF     THE    AFFAIR 


Cenerd/ 
(uj/er 


N  the  spring  of  1867, 
General  Hancock,  who 
then  commanded  the 
military  division  of  the 
Missouri,  with  head- 
quarters at  Fort  Leav- 
enworth, Kansas,  or- 
ganized an  expedition 
against  the  Indians  of 
the  great  plains,  which 
he  led  in  person.  With 
him  was  General  Cus- 
ter, second  ranking  offi- 
cer, from  whom  I  quote 
the  story  of  the  march 
and  some  of  the  inci- 
dents of  the  raid. 
General  Hancock,  with  the  artillery  and  six  companies 
of  infantry,  arrived  at  Fort  Riley,  Kansas,  the  last  week 

456 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  457 

iii  March,  where  he  was  joined  by  four  companies  of  the 
Seventh  Cavalry,  commanded  by  the  intrepid  Custer. 

From  Fort  Riley  the  expedition  marched  to  Fort  Harker, 
seventy-two  miles  farther  west,  on  the  Smoky  Hill,  where 
the  force  was  increased  by  the  addition  of  two  more  troops 
of  cavalry.  Remaining  there  only  long  enough  to  replenish 
their  commissary  supplies,  the  march  was  directed  to  Fort 
Larned  on  the  Old  Santa  Fe"  Trail.  On  the  7th  of  April 
the  command  reached  the  latter  post,  accompanied  by  the 
agent  of  the  Comanches  and  Kiowas ;  at  the  fort  the  agent 
of  the  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  and  Apaches  was  waiting 
for  the  arrival  of  the  general.  The  agent  of  the  three 
last-mentioned  tribes  had  already  sent  runners  to  the  head 
chiefs,  inviting  them  to  a  grand  council  which  was  to 
assemble  near  the  fort  on  the  10th  of  the  month,  and  he 
requested  General  Hancock  to  remain  at  the  fort  with  his 
command  until  that  date. 

On  the  9th  of  April  a  terrible  snow-storm  came  on 
while  the  troops  were  encamped  waiting  for  the  bead  men 
of  the  various  tribes  to  arrive.  Custer  says:  "It  was  our 
good  fortune  to  be  in  camp  rather  than  on  the  march ;  had 
it  been  otherwise,  we  could  not  well  have  escaped  without 
loss  of  life.  The  cavalry  horses  suffered  severely,  and 
were  only  preserved  by  doubling  their  rations  of  oats, 
while  to  prevent  their  being  frozen  during  the  intensely 
cold  night  which  followed,  the  guards  were  instructed  to 
pass  along  the  picket  lines  with  a  whip,  and  keep  the 
horses  moving  constantly.  The  snow  was  eight  inches 
deep.  The  council,  which  was  to  take  place  the  next  day, 
had  to  be  postponed  until  the  return  of  good  weather. 
Now  began  the  display  of  a  kind  of  diplomacy  for  which 
the  Indian  is  peculiar.  The  Cheyennes  and  a  band  of  Sioux 
were  encamped  on  Pawnee  Fork,  about  thirty  miles  above 
Fort  Larned.  They  neither  desired  to  move  nearer  to  us 
or  have  us  approach  nearer  to  them.     On  the  morning  of 


458  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

the  11th,  they  sent  us  word  that  they  had  started  to  visit 
us,  but,  discovering  a  large  herd  of  buffalo  near  their  camp, 
they  had  stopped  to  procure  a  supply  of  meat.  This  mes- 
sage was  not  received  with  much  confidence,  nor  was  a 
buffalo  hunt  deemed  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify 
the  Indians  in  breaking  their  engagement.  General  Han- 
cock decided,  however,  to  delay  another  day,  when,  if  the 
Indians  still  failed  to  come  in,  he  would  move  his  com- 
mand to  the  vicinity  of  their  village  and  hold  the  confer- 
ence there. 

"Orders  were  issued  on  the  evening  of  the  12th  for  the 
march  to  be  resumed  on  the  following  day.  Late  in  the 
evening  two  chiefs  of  the  'Dog-Soldiers,'  a  band  composed 
of  the  most  warlike  and  troublesome  Indians  on  the  plains, 
chiefly  made  up  of  Cheyennes,  visited-  our  camp.  They 
were  accompanied  by  a  dozen  warriors,  and  expressed  a 
desire  to  hold  a  conference  with  General  Hancock,  to 
which  he  assented.  A  large  council-fire  was  built  in 
front  of  the  general's  tent,  and  all  the  officers  of  his  com- 
mand assembled  there.  A  tent  had  been  erected  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  chiefs  a  short  distance  from  the 
general's.  Before  they  could  feel  equal  to  the  occasion, 
and  in  order  to  obtain  time  to  collect  their  thoughts,  they 
desired  that  supper  might  be  prepared  for  them,  which 
was  done.  When  finally  ready,  they  advanced  from  their 
tent  to  the  council-fire  in  single  file,  accompanied  by  their 
agent  and  an  interpreter.  Arrived  at  the  fire,  another 
brief  delay  ensued.  No  matter  how  pressing  or  momen- 
tous the  occasion,  an  Indian  invariably  declines  to  engage 
in  a  council  until  he  has  filled  his  pipe  and  gone  through 
with  the  important  ceremony  of  a  smoke.  This  attended 
to,  the  chiefs  announced  that  they  were  ready  'to  talk.' 
They  were  then  introduced  to  the  principal  officers  of  the 
group,  and  seemed  much  struck  with  the  flashy  uniforms 
of  the  few  artillery  officers,  who  were  present  in  all  the 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  459 

glory  of  red  horsehair  plumes,  aiguillettes,  etc.  The  chiefs 
seemed  puzzled  to  determine  whether  these  insignia  des- 
ignated chieftains  or  medicine  men.  General  Hancock 
began  the  conference  by  a  speech,  in  which  he  explained 
to  the  Indians  his  purpose  in  coming  to  see  them,  and 
what  he  expected  of  them  in  the  future.  He  particularly 
informed  them  that  he  was  not  there  to  make  war,  but  to 
promote  peace.  Then,  expressing  his  regrets  that  more 
of  the  chiefs  had  not  visited  him,  he  announced  his  inten- 
tion of  proceeding  on  the  morrow  with  his  command  to 
the  vicinity  of  their  village,  and  there  holding  a  council 
with  all  the  chiefs.  Tall  Bull,  a  fine,  warlike-looking 
chieftain,  replied  to  General  Hancock,  but  his  speech  con- 
tained nothing  important,  being  made  up  of  allusions  to 
the  growing  scarcity  of  the  buffalo,  his  love  for  the  white 
man,  and  the  usual  hint  that  a  donation  in  the  way  of 
refreshments  would  be  highly  acceptable ;  he  added  that 
he  would  have  nothing  new  to  say  at  the  village. 

"Rightly  concluding  that  the  Indians  did  not  intend 
to  come  to  our  camp,  as  they  had  at  first  agreed  to,  it  was 
decided  to  move  nearer  their  village.  On  the  morning' 
following  the  conference  our  entire  force,  therefore, 
marched  from  Fort  Larned  up  Pawnee  Fork  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  main  village,  encamping  the  first  night  about 
twenty-one  miles  from  Larned.  Several  parties  of  Indians 
were  seen  in  our  advance  during  the  day,  evidently  watch- 
ing our  movements,  while  a  heavy  smoke,  seen  to  rise  in 
the  direction  of  the  Indian  village,  indicated  that  something 
more  than  usual  was  going  on.  The  smoke,  we  afterward 
learned,  arose  from  burning  grass.  The  Indians,  thinking 
to  prevent  us  from  encamping  in  their  vicinity,  had  set  fire 
to  and  burned  all  the  grass  for  miles, in  the  direction  from 
which  they  expected  us.  Before  we  arrived  at  .our  camp- 
ing-ground, we  were  met  by  several  chiefs  and  warriors 
belonging  to  the  Cheyennes  and  Sioux.     Among  the  chiefs 


460  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

were  Pawnee  Killer,  of  the  Sioux,  and  White  Horse,  of 
the  Cheyennes.  It  was  arranged  that  these  chiefs  should 
accept  our  hospitality  and  remain  with  us  during  the  night, 
and  in  the  morning  all  the  chiefs  of  the  two  tribes  then  in 
the  village  were  to  come  to  General  Hancock's  head-quar- 
ters and  hold  a  council.  On  the  morning  of  the  14th, 
Pawnee  Killer  left  our  camp  at  an  early  hour,  as  he  said 
for  the  purpose  of  going  to  the  village  to  bring  in  the 
other  chiefs  to  the  council.  Nine  o'clock  had  been  agreed 
upon  as  the  time  at  which  the  council  should  assemble. 
The  hour  came,  but  the  chiefs  did  not.  Now  an  Indian 
council  is  not  only  often  an  important,  but  always  an 
interesting,  occasion.  At  this  juncture,  Bull  Bear,  an 
influential  chief  among  the  Cheyennes,  came  in  and 
reported  that  the  chiefs  were  on  their  way  to  our  camp, 
but  would  not  be  able  to  reach  it  for  some  time.  This 
was  a  mere  artifice  to  secure  delay.  General  Hancock 
informed  Bull  Bear  that,  as  the  chiefs  could  not  arrive  for 
some  time,  he  would  move  his  forces  up  the  stream  nearer 
the  village,  and  the  council  could  be  held  at  our  camp 
that  night.  To  this  proposition  Bull  Bear  gave  his  con- 
sent. 

"At  11  A.M.  we  resumed  the  march,  and  had  proceeded 
but  a  few  miles  when  we  witnessed  one  of  the  finest 
and  most  imposing  military  displays,  according  to  the 
Indian  art  of  war,  which  it  has  been  my  lot  to  behold. 
It  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  an  Indian  line  of  battle 
drawn  directly  across  our  line  of  march,  as  if  to  say, 
'Thus  far  and  no  further.'  Most  of  the  Indians  were 
mounted;  all  were  bedecked  in  their  brightest  colours, 
their  heads  crowned  with  the  brilliant  war-bonnet,  their 
lances  bearing  the  crimson  pennant,  bows  strung,  and 
quivers  full  of  barbed  arrows.  In  addition  to  these 
weapons,  which,  with  the  hunting-knife  and  tomahawk, 
are  considered  as  forming  the  armament  of  the  warrior, 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  461 

each  one  was  supplied  with  either  a  breech-loading  rifle 
or  revolver,  sometimes  with  both,  —  the  latter  obtained 
through  the  wise  forethought  and  strong  love  of  fair  play 
which  prevails  in  the  Indian  department,  which,  seeing 
that  its  wards  are  determined  to  fight,  is  equally  deter- 
mined that  there  shall  be  no  advantage  taken,  but  that 
the  two  sides  shall  be  armed  alike ;  proving,  too,,  in  this 
manner,  the  wonderful  liberality  of  our  government, 
which  is  not  only  able  to  furnish  its  soldiers  with  the 
latest  style  of  breech-loaders  to  defend  it  and  themselves, 
but  is  equally  able  and  willing  to  give  the  same  pattern 
of  arms  to  the  common  foe.  The  only  difference  is,  that 
if  the  soldier  loses  his  weapon,  he  is  charged  double  price 
for  it,  while  to  avoid  making  any  such  charge  against  the 
Indian,  his  weapons  are  given  him  without  conditions 
attached. 

"In  the  line  of  battle  before  us  there  were  several  hun- 
dred Indians,  while  further  to  the  rear  and  at  different 
distances  were  other  organized  bodies,  acting  apparently 
as  reserves.  Still  further  behind  were  small  detachments 
who  seemed  to  perform  the  duty  of  couriers,  and  were  held 
in  readiness  to  convey  messages  to  the  village.  The 
ground  beyond  was  favourable  for  an  extended  view,  and 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  small  groups  of  individuals 
could  be  seen  in  the  direction  of  the  village ;  these  were 
evidently  parties  of  observation,  whose  sole  object  was  to 
learn  the  result  of  our  meeting  with  the  main  body  and 
hasten  with  the  news  to  the  village. 

"  For  a  few  moments  appearances  seemed  to  foreshadow 
anything  but  a  peaceable  issue.  The  infantry  was  in  the 
advance,  followed  closely  by  the  artillery,  while  my  com- 
mand, the  cavalry,  was  marching  on  the  flank.  General 
Hancock,  who  was  riding  with  his  staff  at  the  head  of  the 
column,  coming  suddenly  in  view  of  the  wild,  fantastic 
battle  array,  which  extended  far  to  our  right  and  left,  and 


462  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

was  not  more  than  half  a  mile  in  our  front,  hastily  sent 
orders  to  the  infantry,  artillery,  and  cavalry  to  form  in  line 
of  battle,  evidently  determined  that,  if  Avar  was  intended, 
we  should  be  prepared.  The  cavalry  being  the  last  to 
form  on  the  right,  came  into  line  on  a  gallop,  and  with- 
out waiting  to  align  the  ranks  carefully,  the  command 
was  given  to  'Draw  sabre.'  As  the  bright  blades  flashed 
from  their  scabbards  into  the  morning  sunlight,  and  the 
infantry  brought  their  muskets  to  a  carry,  a  contrast  was 
presented  which,  to  a  military  eye,  could  but  be  striking. 
Here  in  battle  array,  facing  each  other,  were  the  represent 
tatives  of  civilized  and  barbarous  warfare.  The  one,  with 
few  modifications,  stood  clothed  in  the  same  rude  style 
of  dress,  bearing  the  same  patterned  shield  and  weapon 
that  his  ancestors  had  borne  centuries  before ;  the  other 
confronted  him  in  the  dress  and  supplied  with  the  imple- 
ments of  war  which  an  advanced  stage  of  civilization  had 
pronounced  the  most  perfect.  Was  the  comparative  supe- 
riority of  these  two  classes  to  be  subjected  to  the  mere 
test  of  war  here?  All  was  eager  anxiety  and  expectation. 
Neither  side  seemed  to  comprehend  the  object  or  inten- 
tions of  the  other;  each  was  waiting  for  the  other  to  de- 
liver the  first  blow.  A  more  beautiful  battle-ground  could 
not  have  been  chosen.  Not  a  bush  or  even  the  slightest 
irregularity  of  ground  intervened  between  the  two  lines, 
which  now  stood  frowning  and  facing  each  other.  Chiefs 
could  be  seen  riding  along  the  line,  as  if  directing  and 
exhorting  their  braves  to  deeds  of  heroism. 

"After  a  few  moments  of  painful  suspense,  General 
Hancock,  accompanied  by  General  A.  J.  Smith  and  other 
officers,  rode  forward,  and  through  an  interpreter  invited 
the  chiefs  to  meet  us  midway  for  the  purpose  of  an  inter- 
view. In  response  to  this  invitation,  Roman  Nose,  bear- 
ing a  white  flag,  accompanied  by  Bull  Bear,  White  Horse, 
Gray  Beard,  and  Medicine  Wolf,  on  the  part  of  the  Chey- 


HANCOCK'S    EXPEDITION  463 

ennes,  and  Pawnee  Killer,  Bad  Wound,  Tall-Bear-That- 
Walks-under-the-Ground,  Left  Hand,  Little  Bear,  and 
Little  Bull,  on  the  part  of  the  Sioux,  rode  forward  to  the 
middle  of  the  open  space  between  the  two  lines.  Here 
we  shook  hands  with  all  the  chiefs,  most  of  them  exhibit- 
ing unmistakable  signs  of  gratification  at  this  apparently 
peaceful  termination  of  our  rencounter.  General  Hancock 
very  naturally  inquired  the  object  of  the  hostile  attitude 
displayed  before  us,  saying  to  the  chiefs  that  if  war  was 
their  object,  we  were  ready  then  and  there  to  participate. 
Their  immediate  answer  was  that  they  did  not  desire  war, 
but  were  peacefully  disposed.  They  were  then  told  that 
we  would  continue  our  march  toward  the  village,  and 
encamp  near  it,  but  would  establish  such  regulations  that 
none  of  the  soldiers  would  be  permitted  to  approach  or  dis- 
turb them.  An  arrangement  was  then  effected  by  which 
the  chiefs  were  to  assemble  at  General  Hancock's  head- 
quarters as  soon  as  our  camp  was  pitched.  The  interview 
then  terminated,  and  the  Indians  moved  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  their  village,  we  following  leisurely  in  the  rear. 

"A  march  of  a  few  miles  brought  us  in  sight  of  the  vil- 
lage, which  was  situated  in  a  beautiful  grove  on  the  bank 
of  the  stream  up  which  we  had  been  marching.  It  con- 
sisted of  upwards  of  three  hundred  lodges,  a  small  frac- 
tion over  half  belonging  to  the  Cheyennes,  the  remainder 
to  the  Sioux.  Like  all  Indian  encampments,  the  ground 
chosen  was  a  most  romantic  spot,  and  at  the  same  time 
fulfilled  in  every  respect  the  requirements  of  a  good 
camping-ground;  wood,  water,  and  grass  were  abundant. 
The  village  was  placed  on  a  wide,  level  plateau,  while 
on  the  north  and  west,  at  a  short  distance  off,  rose  high 
bluffs,  which  admirably  served  as  a  shelter  against  the 
cold  winds  which  at  that  season  of  the  year  prevail  from 
those  directions.  Our  tents  were  pitched  within  a  mile 
of  the  village.     Guards  were  placed  between  to  prevent 


464  THE  OLD  SANTA  EE  TRAIL 

intrusion  upon  our  part.  We  had  scarcely  pitched  our 
tents  when  Roman  Nose,  Bull  Bear,  Gray  Beard,  and 
Medicine  Wolf,  all  prominent  chiefs  of  the  Cheyenne 
nation,  came  into  camp  with  the  information  that  upon 
our  approach  their  women  and  children  had  all  fled  from 
the  village,  alarmed  by  the  presence  of  so  many  soldiers, 
and  imagining  a  second  Chivington  massacre  to  be  in- 
tended. General  Hancock  insisted  that  they  should  all 
return,  promising  protection  and  good  treatment  to  all; 
that  if  the  camp  was  abandoned,  he  would  hold  it  respon- 
sible. The  chiefs  then  stated  their  belief  in  their  ability 
to  recall  the  fugitives,  could  they  be  furnished  with  horses 
to  overtake  them.  This  was  accordingly  done,  and  two 
of  them  set  out  mounted  on  two  of  our  horses.  An  agree- 
ment was  also  entered  into  at  the  same  time,  that  one  of 
our  interpreters,  Ed  Gurrier,  a  half-breed  Cheyenne,  who 
was  in  the  employ  of  the  government,  should  remain  in 
the  village  and  report  every  two  hours  as  to  whether  any 
Indians  were  leaving  there.  This  was  about  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  At  half-past  nine  the  half-breed  returned 
to  head-quarters  with  the  intelligence  that  all  the  chiefs 
and  warriors  were  saddling  up  to  leave,  under  circum- 
stances showing  that  they  had  no  intention  of  returning, 
such  as  packing  up  every  article  that  could  be  carried  with 
them,  and  cutting  and  destroying  their  lodges,  —  this  last 
being  done  to  obtain  small  pieces  for  temporary  shelter. 

"  I  had  retired  to  my  tent,  which  was  some  few  hundred 
yai'ds  from  that  of  General  Hancock,  when  a  messenger 
from  the  latter  awakened  me  with  the  information  that 
the  general  desired  my  presence  in  his  tent.  He  briefly 
stated  the  situation  of  affairs,  and  directed  me  to  mount 
my  command  as  quickly  and  as  silently  as  possible,  sur- 
round the  Indian  village,  and  prevent  the  departure  of  its 
inhabitants.  Easily  said,  but  not  so  easity  done.  Under 
ordinary   circumstances,   silence   not   being    necessary,   I 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  465 

could  have  returned  to  my  camp,  and  by  a  few  blasts  from 
the  trumpet,  placed  every  soldier  on  his  saddle  almost  as 
quickly  as  it  has  taken  time  to  write  this  short  sentence.  • 
No  bugle  calls  must  be  sounded ;  we  were  to  adopt  some 
of  the  stealth  of  the  Indians — how  successfully  remained 
to  be  seen.  By  this  time  every  soldier  and  officer  was  in 
his  tent  sound  asleep.  First  going  to  the  tent  of  the 
adjutant  and  arousing  him,  I  procured  an  experienced 
assistant  in  my  labours.  Next  the  captains  of  companies 
were  awakened  and  orders  imparted  to  them.  They  in  turn 
transmitted  the  order  to  the  first  sergeant,  who  similarly 
aroused  the  men.  It  has  often  surprised  me  to  observe 
the  alacrity  with  which  disciplined  soldiers,  experienced 
in  campaigning,  will  hasten  to  prepare  themselves  for  the 
march  in  an  emergency  like  this.  No  questions  are  asked, 
no  time  is  wasted.  A  soldier's  toilet,  on  an  Indian  cam- 
paign, is  a  simple  affair,  and  requires  little  time  for  arrang- 
ing. His  clothes  are  gathered  up  hurriedly,  no  matter  how, 
so  long  as  he  retains  possession  of  them.  The  first  object 
is  to  get  his  horse  saddled  and  bridled,  and  until  this  is 
done  his  own  dress  is  a  matter  of  secondary  importance, 
and  one  button  or  hook  must  do  the  duty  of  half  a  dozen. 
When  his  horse  is  ready  for  the  mount,  the  rider  will  be 
seen  completing  his  own  equipment;  stray  buttons  will  re- 
ceive attention,  arms  will  be  overhauled,  spurs  restrapped  ; 
then,  if  there  still  remain  a  few  spare  moments,  the  homely 
black  pipe  is  filled  and  lighted,  and  the  soldier's  prepara- 
tion is  complete. 

"  The  night  was  all  that  could  be  desired  for  the  success 
of  our  enterprise.  The  air  was  mild  and  pleasant;  the 
moon,  although  nearly  full,  kept  almost  constantly  behind 
the  clouds,  as  if  to  screen  us  in  our  hazardous  undertaking. 
I  say  hazardous,  because  none  of  us  imagined  for  one  mo- 
ment that  if  the  Indians  discovered  us  in  our  attempt  to 
surround  them  and  their  village,  we  should  escape  without 
•2  H 


466  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

a  fight  — -  a  fight,  too,  in  which  the  Indians,  sheltered 
behind  the  trunks  of  the  stately  forest  trees  under  which 
their  lodges  were  pitched,  would  possess  all  the  advan- 
tage. General  Hancock,  anticipating  that  the  Indians 
would  discover  our  approach,  and  that  a  fight  would  en- 
sue, ordered  the  artillery  and  infantry  under  arms,  to 
await  the  result  of  our  moonlight  adventure.  My  com- 
mand was  soon  in  the  saddle,  and  silently  making  its  way 
toward  the  village.  Instructions  had  been  given  for- 
bidding all  conversation  except  in  a  whisper.  Sabres  were 
disposed  of  to  prevent  clanging.  Taking  a  camp-fire  which 
we  could  see  in  the  village  as  our  guiding  j3oint,  we  made 
a  detour  so  as  to  place  the  village  between  ourselves  and 
the  infantry.  Occasionally  the  moon  woidd  peep  out  from 
the  clouds  and  enable  us  to  catch  a  hasty  glance  at  the 
village.  Here  and  there  under  the  thick  foliage  we  could 
see  the  white,  conical-shaped  lodges.  Were  the  inmates 
slumbering,  unaware  of  our  close  proximity,  or  were  their 
dusky  defenders  concealed,  as  well  they  might  have  been, 
along  the  banks  of  the  Pawnee,  quietly  awaiting  our 
approach,  and  prepared  to  greet  us  with  their  well-known 
war-whoop  ?  These  were  questions  that  were  probably 
suggested  to  the  mind  of  each  individual  of  my  command. 
If  we  were  discovered  approaching  in  the  stealthy,  suspi- 
cious manner  which  characterized  our  movements,  the 
hour  being  midnight,  it  would  require  a  more  confiding 
nature  than  that  of  the  Indian  to  assign  a  friendly  or 
peaceful  motive  to  our  conduct.  The  same  flashes  of 
moonlight  which  gave  us  hurried  glimpses  of  the  village 
enabled  us  to  see  our  own  column  of  horsemen  stretching 
its  silent  length  far  into  the  dim  darkness,  and  winding 
its  course,  like  some  huge  anaconda  about  to  envelop  its 
victim. 

"  The  method  by  which  it  was  determined  to  establish  a 
cordon  of  armed  troopers  about  the  fated  village,  was  to 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  467 

direct  the  march  in  a  circle,  with  the  village  in  the  centre, 
the  commanding  officer  of  each  rear  troop  halting  his  com- 
mand at  the  proper  point,  and  deploying  his  men  similarly 
to  a  line  of  skirmishers  —  the  entire  circle,  when  thus 
formed,  facing  toward  the  village,  and  distant  from  it  per- 
haps a  few  hundred  yards.  No  sooner  was  our  line  com- 
pletely formed  than  the  moon,  as  if  deeming  darkness  no 
longer  essential  to  our  success,  appeared  from  behind  her 
screen  and  lighted  up  the  entire  scene.  And  beautiful  it 
was !  The  great  circle  of  troops,  each  individual  of  which 
sat  on  his  steed  silent  as  a  statue,  the  dense  foliage  of 
the  cotton  trees  sheltering  the  bleached,  skin-clad  lodges 
of  the  red  men,  the  little  stream  in  the  midst  murmuring 
undisturbedly  in  its  channel,  all  combined  to  produce  an 
artistic  effect,  as  striking  as  it  was  interesting.  But  we 
were  not  there  to  study  artistic  effects.  The  next  step  was 
to  determine  whether  we  had  captured  an  inhabited  vil- 
lage, involving  almost  necessarily  a  severe  conflict  with 
its  savage  occupants,  or  whether  the  red  man  had  again 
proven  too  wily  and  crafty  for  his  more  civilized  brothers. 
"  Directing  the  entire  line  of  troopers  to  remain  mounted 
with  carbines  held  at  the  '  Advance,'  I  dismounted,  and 
taking  with  me  Gurrier,  the  half-breed,  Dr.  Coates,  one  of 
our  medical  staff,  and  Lieutenant  Moylan,  the  adjutant,  we 
proceeded  on  our  hands  and  knees  toward  the  village. 
The  prevailing  opinion  was  that  the  Indians  were  still 
asleep.  I  desired  to  approach  near  enough  to  the  lodges 
to  enable  the  half-breed  to  hail  the  village  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  and  if  possible  establish  friendly  relations  at  once. 
It  became  a  question  of  prudence  with  us,  which  we  dis- 
cussed in  whispers  as  we  proceeded  on  our  '  Tramp,  tramp, 
tramp,  the  boys  are  creeping,'1  how  far  from  our  horses  and 
how  near  to  the  village  we  dared  to  go.  If  so  few  of  us 
were  discovered  entering  the  village  in  this  questionable 
manner,  it  was  more  than  probable  that,  like  the  returners 


468  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

of  stolen  property,  we  should  be  suitably  rewarded  and 
no  questions  asked.  The  opinion  of  Gurrier,  the  half- 
breed,  was  eagerly  sought  for  and  generally  deferred  to. 
His  wife,  a  full-blooded  Cheyenne,  was  a  resident  of  the 
village.  This  with  him  was  an  additional  reason  for 
wishing  a  peaceful  termination  to  our  efforts.  When  we 
had  passed  over  two-thirds  of  the  distance  between  our 
horses  and  the  village,  it  was  thought  best  to  make  our 
presence  known.  Thus  far  not  a  sound  had  been  heard  to 
disturb  the  stillness  of  the  night.  Gurrier  called  out  at 
the  top  of  his  voice  in  the  Cheyenne  tongue.  The  only 
response  came  from  the  throats  of  a  score  or  more  of 
Indian  dogs  which  set  up  a  fierce  barking.  At  the  same 
time  one  or  two  of  our  party  asserted  that  they  saw  figures 
moving  beneath  the  trees.  Gurrier  repeated  his  summons, 
but  with  no  better  results  than  before. 

"A  hurried  consultation  ensued.  The  presence  of  so 
many  dogs  in  the  village  was  regarded  bj"  the  half-breed 
as  almost  positive  assurance  that  the  Indians  were  still 
there.  Yet  it  was  difficult  to  account  for  their  silence. 
Gurrier  in  a  loud  tone  repeated  who  he  was,  and  that  our 
mission  was  friendly.  Still  no  answer.  He  then  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  the  Indians  were  on  the  alert,  and  were 
probably  waiting  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  for  us  to 
approach  nearer,  when  they  would  pounce  upon  us.  This 
comforting  opinion  induced  another  conference.  We  must 
ascertain  the  truth  of  the  matter ;  our  party  could  do  this 
as  well  as  a  larger  number,  and  to  go  back  and  send 
another  party  in  our  stead  could  not  be  thought  of. 

"  Forward  !  was  the  verdict.  Each  one  grasped  his  re- 
volver, resolved  to  do  his  best,  whether  it  was  in  running 
or  fighting.  I  think  most  of  us  would  have  preferred  to 
take  our  own  chances  at  running.  We  had  approached 
near  enough  to  see  that  some  of  the  lodges  were  detached 
some  distance  from  the  main  encampment.     Selecting  the 


HANCOCK'S  EXPEDITION  469 

nearest  of  these,  we  directed  our  advance  on  it.  While 
all  of  us  were  full  of  the  spirit  of  adventure,  and  were 
further  encouraged  with  the  idea  that  we  were  in  the  dis- 
charge of  our  duty,  there  was  scarcely  one  of  us  who  would 
not  have  felt  more  comfortable  if  we  could  have  got  back 
to  our  horses  without  loss  of  pride.  Yet  nothing,  under 
the  circumstances,  but  a  positive  order  would  have  induced 
any  one  to  withdraw.     ■ 

"  Cautiously  approaching,  on  all  fours,  to  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  nearest  lodge,  occasionally  halting  and  listen- 
ing to  discover  whether  the  village  was  deserted  or  not, 
we  finally  decided  that  the  Indians  had  fled  before  the 
arrival  of  the  cavalry,  and  that  none  but  empty  lodges 
were  before  us.  This  conclusion  somewhat  emboldened 
as  well  as  accelerated  our  progress.  Arriving  at  the  first 
lodge,  one  of  our  party  raised  the  curtain  or  mat  which 
served  as  a  door,  and  the  doctor  and  myself  entered.  The 
interior  of  the  lodge  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  dying  em- 
bers of  a  small  fire  built  in  the  centre.  All  around  us 
were  to  be  seen  the  usual  adornments  and  articles  which 
constitute  the  household  effects  of  an  Indian  family. 
Buffalo-robes  were  spread  like  carpets  over  the  floor; 
head-mats,  used  to  recline  on,  were  arranged  as  if  for  the 
comfort  of  their  owners  ;  parfliches,  a  sort  of  Indian  band- 
box, with  their  contents  apparently  undisturbed,  were 
carefully  stowed  away  under  the  edges  or  borders  of 
the  lodge.  These,  with  the  door-mats,  paint-bags,  raw- 
hide ropes,  and  other  articles  of  Indian  equipment,  were 
left  as  if  the  owners  had  only  absented  themselves  for  a 
brief  period.  To  complete  the  picture  of  an  Indian  lodge, 
over  the  fire  hung  a  camp-kettle,  in  which,  by  means  of  the 
dim  light  of  the  fire,  we  could  see  what  had  been  intended 
for  the  supper  of  the  late  occupants  of  the  lodge.  The 
doctor,  ever  on  the  alert  to  discover  additional  items 
of  knowledge,  whether  pertaining    to  history  or  science, 


470  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

snuffed  the  savoury  odours  which  arose  from  the  dark  re- 
cesses of  the  mysterious  kettle.  Casting  about  the  lodge 
for  some  instrument  to  aid  him  in  his  pursuit  of  know- 
ledge, he  found  a  horn  spoon,  with  which  he  began  his  in- 
vestigation of  the  contents,  finally  succeeding  in  getting 
possession  of  a  fragment  which  might  have  been  the  half 
of  a  duck  or  rabbit,  judging  from  its  size  merely.  '  Ah  ! ' 
said  the  doctor,  in  his  most  complacent  manner,  '  here  is  the 
opportunity  I  have  long  been  waiting  for.  I  have  often 
desired  to  test  the  Indian  mode  of  cooking.  What  do 
you  suppose  this  is  ? '  holding  up  the  dripping  morsel. 
Unable  to  obtain  the  desired  information,  the  doctor,  whose 
naturally  good  appetite  had  been  sensibly  sharpened  by 
his  recent  exercise,  set  to  with  a  will  and  ate  heartily 
of  the  mysterious  contents  of  the  kettle.  He  was  only 
satisfied  on  one  point,  that  it  was  delicious  —  a  dish  fit  for 
a  king.  Just  then  Gurrier,  the  half-breed,  entered  the 
lodge.  He  could  solve  the  mystery,  having  spent  years 
among  the  Indians.  To  him  the  doctor  appealed  for  in- 
formation. Fishing  out  a  huge  piece,  and  attacking  it 
with  the  voracity  of  a  hungry  wolf,  he  was  not  long  in 
determining  what  the  doctor  had  supped  heartily  upon. 
His  first  words  settled  the  mysteiy :  '  Why,  this  is  dog.' 
I  will  not  attempt  to  repeat  the  few  but  emphatic  words 
uttered  by  the  heartily  disgusted  member  of  the  medical 
fraternity  as  he  rushed  from  the  lodge. 

"  Other  members  of  our  small  party  had  entered  other 
lodges,  only  to  find  them,  like  the  first,  deserted.  But 
little  of  the  furniture  belonging  to  the  lodges  had  been 
taken,  showing  how  urgent  and  hasty  had  been  the  flight 
of  the  owners.  To  aid  in  the  examination  of  the  village, 
reinforcements  were  added  to  our  party,  and  an  explora- 
tion of  each  lodge  was  determined  upon.  At  the  same 
time  a  messenger  was  despatched  to  General  Hancock,  in- 
forming him  of  the  flight  of  the  Indians.     Some  of  the 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  471 

lodges  were  closed  by  having  brush  or  timber  piled  up 
against  the  entrance,  as  if  to  preserve  the  contents. 
Others  had  huge  pieces  cut  from  their  sides,  these  pieces 
evidently  being  carried  away  to  furnish  temporary  shelter 
for  the  fugitives.  In  most  of  the  lodges  the  fires  were 
still  burning.  I  had  entered  several  without  discovering 
anything  important.  Finally,  in  company  with  the  doctor, 
I  arrived  at  one  the  interior  of  which  was  quite  dark,  the 
fire  having  almost  died  out.  Procuring  a  lighted  fagot, 
I  prepared  to  explore  it,  as  I  had  done  the  others ;  but  no 
sooner  had  I  entered  the  lodge  than  my  fagot  failed  me, 
leaving  me  in  total  darkness.  Handing  it  to  the  doctor 
to  be  relighted,  I  began  to  feel  my  way  about  the  interior 
of  the  lodge.  I  had  almost  made  the  circuit  when  my 
hand  came  in  contact  with  a  human  foot;  at  the  same 
time  a  voice  unmistakably  Indian,  and  which  evidently 
came  from  the  owner  of  the  foot,  convinced  me  that  I  was 
not  alone.  My  first  impressions  were  that  in  their  hasty 
flight  the  Indians  had  gone  off,  leaving  this  one  asleep. 
My  next,  very  naturally,  related  to  myself.  I  would 
gladly  have  placed  myself  on  the  outside  of  the  lodge,  and 
there  matured  plans  for  interviewing  its  occupant;  but 
unfortunately  to  reach  the  entrance  of  the  lodge,  I  must 
either  pass  over  or  around  the  owner  of  the  before-men- 
tioned foot  and  voice.  Could  I  have  been  convinced  that 
among  its  other  possessions  there  was  neither  tomahawk 
nor  scalping-knife,  pistol  nor  war-club,  or  any  similar  ar- 
ticle of  the  noble  red-man's  toilet,  I  would  have  risked  an 
attempt  to  escape  through  the  low  narrow  opening  of  the 
lodge ;  but  who  ever  saw  an  Indian  without  one  or  all  of 
these  interesting  trinkets?  Had  I  made  the  attempt,  I 
should  have  expected  to  encounter  either  the  keen  edge 
of  the  scalping-knife  or  the  blow  of  the  tomahawk,  and  to 
have  engaged  in  a  questionable  struggle  for  life.  This 
would  not  do.     I  crouched  in  silence  for  a  few  moments, 


472  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

hoping  the  doctor  would  return  with  the  lighted  fagot.  .  I 
need  not  say  that  each  succeeding  moment  spent  in  the 
darkness  of  that  lodge  seemed  an  age.  I  could  hear  a 
alight  movement  on  the  part  of  my  unknown  neighbour, 
which  did  not  add  to  my  comfort.  Why  does  not  the 
doctor  return?  At  last  I  discovered  the  approach  of  a 
light  on  the  outside.  When  it  neared  the  entrance,  I  called 
the  doctor  and  informed  him  that  an  Indian  was  in  the 
lodge,  and  that  he  had  better  have  his  weapons  ready  for 
a  conflict.  I  had,  upon  discovering  the  foot,  drawn  my 
hunting-knife  from  its  scabbard,  and  now  stood  waiting 
the  denouement.  With  his  lighted  fagot  in  one  hand  and 
cocked  revolver  in  the  other,  the  doctor  cautiously  entered 
the  lodge.  And  there  directly  between  us,  wrapped  in  a 
buffalo-robe,  lay  the  cause  of  my  anxiety,  —  a  little  Indian 
girl,  probably  ten  years  old ;  not  a  full-blood,  but  a  half- 
breed.  She  was  terribly  frightened  at  finding  herself  in 
our  hands,  with  none  of  her  people  near.  Other  parties 
in  exploring  the  deserted  village  found  an  old,  decrepit 
Indian  of  the  Sioux  tribe,  who  had  also  been  deserted, 
owing  to  his  infirmities  and  inability  to  travel  with  the 
tribe.  Nothing1  was  gleaned  from  our  search  of  the  village 
which  might  indicate  the  direction  of  the  flight.  General 
Hancock,  on  learning  the  situation  of  affairs,  despatched 
some  companies  of  infantry  with  orders  to  replace  th& 
cavalry  and  protect  the  village  and  its  contents  from  dis- 
turbance until  its  final  disposition  could  be  determined 
upon,  and  it  was  decided  that  with  eight  troops  of  cavalry 
I  should  start  in  pursuit  of  the  Indians  at  early  dawn  on 
the  following  morning. 

"  The  Indians,  after  leaving  their  village,  went  up  on 
the  Smoky,  Hill,  and  committed  the  most  horrible  depreda- 
tions upon  the  scattered  settlers  in  that  region.  Upon 
this  news,  General  Hancock  issued  the  following  order: — • 
■  As  a  punishment  of  the  bad  faith  practised  by  the 


U  4 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  473 

Cheyennes  and  Sioux  who  occupied  the  Indian  village  at 
this  place,  and  as  a  chastisement  for  murders  and  dep- 
redations committed  since  the  arrival  of  the  command 
at  this  point,  by  the  people  of  these  tribes,  the  village! 
recently  occupied  by  them,  which  is  now  in  our  .hands, 
will  be  utterly  destroyed.' 

The  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  and  Apaches  had  been 
united  under  one  agency;  the  Kiowas  and  Comanches 
under  another.  As  General  Hancock's  expedition  had 
reference  to  all  these  tribes,  he  had  invited  both  the  agents 
to  accompany  him  into  the  Indian  country  and  be  present 
at  all  interviews  with  the  representatives  of  these  tribes, 
for  the  purpose,  as  the  invitation  stated,  of  showing  the 
Indians  '  that  the  officers  of  the  government  are  acting  in 
harmony.' 

"  In  conversation  with  the  general  the  agents  admitted 
that  Indians  had  been  guilty  of  all  the  outrages  charged 
against  them,  but  each  asserted  the  innocence  of  the  par- 
ticular tribes  under  his  charge,  and  endeavoured  to  lay 
their  crimes  at  the  door  of  their  neighbours. 

"  Here  was  positive  evidence  from  the  agents  themselves 
that  the  Indians  against  whom  we  were  operating  were 
deserving  of  severe  punishment.  The  only  conflicting 
portion  of  the  testimony  was  as  to  which  tribe  was  most 
guilty.  Subsequent  events  proved,  however,  that  all  of 
the  five  tribes  named,  as  well  as  the  Sioux,  had  combined 
for  a  general  war  throughout  the  plains  and  along  our 
frontier.  Such  a  war  had  been  threatened  to  our  post 
commanders  along  the  Arkansas  on  many  occasions  during 
the  winter.  The  movement  of  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes 
toward  the  north  indicated  that  the  principal  theatre  of 
military  operations  during  the  summer  would  be  between 
the  Smoky  Hill  and  Platte  rivers.  General  Hancock 
accordingly  assembled  the  principal  chiefs  of  the  Kiowas 
and  Arapahoes  in  council  at  Fort  Dodge,  hoping  to  induce 


474  THE    OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

them  to  remain  at  peace  and  observe  their  treaty  obliga- 
tions. 

"  The  most  prominent  chiefs  in  council  were  Satanta, 
Lone  Wolf,  and  Kicking  Bird  of  the  Kiowas,  and  Little 
Raven  and  Yellow  Bear  of  the  Arapahoes.  During  the 
council  extravagant  promises  of  future  good  behaviour 
were  made  by  these  chiefs.  So  effective  and  convincing 
was  the  oratorical  effort  of  Satanta,  that  at  the  termination 
of  his  address,  the  department  commander  and  his  staff  pre- 
sented him  with  the  uniform  coat,  sash,  and  hat  of  a  major- 
general.  In  return  for  this  compliment,  Satanta,  within 
a  few  weeks,  attacked  the  post  at  which  the  council  was 
held,  arrayed  in  his  new  uniform." 

In  the  spring  of  1878,  the  Indians  commenced  a  series 
of  depredations  along  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  and  against  the 
scattered  settlers  of  the  frontier,  that  were  unparalleled 
in  their  barbarity.  General  Alfred  Sully,  a  noted  Indian 
fighter,  who  commanded  the  district  of  the  Upper  Arkansas, 
early  concentrated  a  portion  of  the  Seventh  and  Tenth 
Cavalry  and  Third  Infantry  along  the  line  of  the  Old 
Santa  Fe'  Trail,  and  kept  out  small  expeditions  of  scouting 
parties  to  protect  the  overland  coaches  and  freight  cara- 
vans ;  but  the  troops  effected  very  little  in  stopping  the 
devilish  acts  of  the  Indians,  who  were  now  fully  deter- 
mined to  carry  out  their  threats  of  a  general  war,  which 
culminated  in  the  winter  expedition  of  General  Sheridan, 
who  completely  subdued  them,  and  forced  all  the  tribes  on 
reservations ;  since  which  time  there  has  never  been  any 
trouble  with  the  plains  Indians  worthy  of  mention.1 

General  Sully,  about  the  1st  of  September,  with  eight 
companies  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry  and  five  companies  of 

1  See  Sheridan's  Memoirs,  Custer's  Life  on  the  Plains,  and  Buffalo 
Bill's  book,  in  which  all  the  stirring  events  of  that  campaign  —  nearly 
every  fight  of  which  was  north  or  far  south  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  — are 
graphically  told. 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  475 

infantry,  left  Fort  Dodge,  on  the  Arkansas,  on  a  hurried 
expedition  against  the  Kiowas,  Arapahoes,  and  Cheyennes. 
The  command  marched  in  a  general  southeasterly  direc- 
tion, and  reached  the  sand  hills  of  the  Beaver  and  Wolf" 
rivers,  by  a  circuitous  route,  on  the  fifth  day.  When 
nearly  through  that  barren  region,  they  were  attacked  by 
a  force  of  eight  hundred  of  the  allied  tribes  under  the 
leadership  of  the  famous  Kiowa  chief,  Satanta.  A  running 
fight  was  kept  up  with  the  savages  on  the  first  day,  in 
which  two  of  the  cavalry  were  killed  and  one  wounded. 

That  night  the  savages  came  close  enough  to  camp  to 
fire  into  it  (an  unusual  proceeding  in  Indian  warfare,  as 
they  rarely  molest  troops  during  the  night),  I  now  quote 
from  Custer  again  :  "  The  next  day  General  Sully  directed 
his  march  down  the  valley  of  the  Beaver;  but  just  as  his 
troops  were  breaking  camp,  the.  long  wagon-train  having 
already  'pulled  out,'  and  the  rear  guard  of  the  command 
having  barely  got  into  their  saddles,  a  party  of  between 
two  and  three  hundred  warriors,  who  had  evidently  in 
some  inexplicable  manner  contrived  to  conceal  themselves 
until  the  proper  moment,  dashed  into  the  deserted  camp 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  rear  of  the  troops,  and  succeeded 
in  cutting  off  a  few  led  horses  and  two  of  the  cavalrymen 
who,  as  is  often  the  case,  had  lingered  a  moment  behind 
the  column. 

"Fortunately,  the  acting  adjutant  of  the  cavalry,  Brevet 
Captain  A.  E.  Smith,  was  riding  at  the  rear  of  the  column 
and  witnessed  the  attack  of  the  Indians.  Captain  Hamil- 
ton,1 of  the  Seventh  Cavalry,  was  also  present  in  command 
of  the  rear  guard.  Wheeling  to  the  rightabout,  he  at  once 
prepared  to  charge  the  Indians  and  attempt  the  rescue  of 
the  two  troopers  who  were  being  carried-  off  before  his 
very  eyes.     At   the   same   time,  Captain    Smith,  as   rep- 

1 A  grandson   of   Alexander   Hamilton ;  killed  at  the   battle   of  the 
Washita,  in  the  charge  on  Black  Kettle's  camp  under  Custer. 
t 


476  THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 

resentative  of  the  commanding  officer  of  the  cavalry, 
promptly  took  the  responsibility  of  directing  a  squadron 
of  the  cavalry  to  wheel  out  of  column  and  advance  in 
support  of  Captain  Hamilton's  guard.  With  this  hastily 
formed  detachment,  the  Indians,  still  within  pistol-range, 
but  moving  off  with  their  prisoners,  were  gallantly  charged 
and  so  closely  pressed  that  they  were  forced  to  relinquish 
one  of  their  prisoners,  but  not  before  shooting  him  through 
the  body  and  leaving  him  on  the  ground,  as  they  supposed, 
mortally  wounded.  The  troops  continued  to  charge  the 
retreating  Indians,  upon  whom  they  were  gaining,  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  to  effect  the  rescue  of  their  remaining 
comrade.  They  were  advancing  down  one  slope  while  the 
Indians,  just  across  a  ravine,  were  endeavouring  to  escape 
with  their  prisoner  up  the  opposite  ascent,  when  a  per- 
emptory order  reached  the  officers  commanding  the  pursu- 
ing force  to  withdraw  their  men  and  reform  the  column  at 
once.  The  terrible  fate  awaiting  the  unfortunate  trooper 
carried  off  by  the  Indians  spread  a  deep  gloom  throughout 
the  command.  All  were  too  familiar  with  the  horrid  cus- 
toms of  the  savages  to  hope  for  a  moment  that  the  captive 
would  be  reserved  for  aught  but  a  slow,  lingering  death, 
from  tortures  the  most  horrible  and  painful  which  blood- 
thirsty minds  could  suggest.  Such  was  the  truth  in  his 
case,  as  Ave  learned  afterwards  when  peace  (?)  was  estab- 
lished with  the  tribes  then  engaged  in  war. 

"The  expedition  proceeded  down  the  valley  of  the 
Beaver,  the  Indians  contesting  every  step  of  the  way.  In 
the  afternoon,  about  three  o'clock,  the  troops  arrived  at  a 
ridge  of  sand  hills  a  few  miles  southeast  of  the  present 
site  of  Camp  Supply,  where  quite  a  determined  engage- 
ment took  place  between  the  command  and  the  three 
tribes,  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  and  Kiowas,  the  Indians 
being  the  assailants.  The  Indians  seemed  to  have  re- 
served their  strongest  efforts  until  the  troops  and  train 


HANCOCK'S   EXPEDITION  477 

had  advanced  well  into  the  sand  hills,  when  a  most  obsti- 
nate resistance  —  and  well  conducted,  too  —  was  offered 
to  the  farther  advance  of  the  troops.  It  was  evident  that 
the  troops  were  probably  nearing  the  Indian  villages,  and 
that  this  opposition  to  further  advance  was  to  save  them. 
The  character  of  the  country  immediately  about  the  troops 
was  not  favourable  to  the  operations  of  cavalry;  the  surface 
of  the  rolling  plain  was  cut  up  by  irregular  and  closely 
located  sand  hills,  too  steep  and  sandy  to  allow  cavalry 
to  move  with  freedom,  yet  capable  of  being  easily  cleared 
of  savages  b)r  troops  righting  on  foot.  The  Indians  took 
post  on  the  hilltops  and  began  a  harassing  fire  on  the 
troops  and  train.  Captain  Yates,  with  a  single  troop  of 
cavalry,  was  ordered  forward  to  drive  them  away.  This 
was  a  proceeding  which  did  not  seem  to  meet  with  favour 
from  the  savages.  Captain  Yates  could  drive  them  wher- 
ever he  encountered  them,  but  they  appeared  in  increased 
numbers  at  some  other  threatened  point.  After  contend- 
ing in  this  non-effective  manner  for  a  couple  of  hours,  the 
impression  arose  in  the  minds  of  some  that  the  train  could 
not  be  conducted  through  the  sand  hills  in  the  face  of  the 
strong  opposition  offered  by  the  Indians.  The  order  was 
issued  to  turn  about  and  withdraw.  The  order  was  exe- 
cuted, and  the  troop  and  train,  followed  by  the  exultant 
Indians,  retired  a  few  miles  to  the  Beaver,  and  encamped  for 
the  night  on  the  ground  afterward  known  as  Camp  Supply. 
"Captain  Yates  had  caused  to  be  brought  off  the  field, 
when  his  troop  was  ordered  to  retire,  the  body  of  one  of 
his  men,  who  had  been  slain  in  the  fight.  As  the  troops 
were  to  continue  their  backward  march  next  day,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  transport  the  dead  body  further,  Captain 
Yates  ordered  preparations  made  for  interring  it  in  camp 
that  night.  Knowing  that  the  Indians  would  thoroughly 
search  the  deserted  camp-ground  almost  before  the  troops 
should  get  out  of  sight,  and  would  be  quick,  with  their 


478  THE   OLD   SANTA   EE   TRAIL 

watchful  eyes,  to  detect  a  grave,  and,  if  successful  in  dis- 
covering it,  would  unearth  the  body  in  order  to  get  the 
scalp,  directions  were  given  to  prepare  the  grave  after 
nightfall;  and  the  spot  selected  would  have  baffled  any 
one  but  an  Indian.  The  grave  was  dug  under  the  picket 
line  to  which  the  seventy  or  eighty  horses  of  the  troop 
would  be  tethered  during  the  night,  so  that  their  constant 
tramping  and  pawing  should  completely  cover  up  and 
obliterate  all  traces.  The  following  morning,  even  those 
who  had  performed  the  sad  rites  of  burial  to  their  fallen 
comrade  could  scarcely  have  indicated  the  exact  location 
of  the  grave.  Yet  when  we  returned  to  that  point  a  few 
weeks  later,  it  was  discovered  that  the  wily  savages  had 
found  the  place,  unearthed  the  body,  and  removed  the  scalp 
of  their  victim  on  the  day  following  the  interment."1 

After  leaving  the  camp  at  Supply,  the  Indians  gradually 
increased  their  force,  until  they  mustered  about  two 
thousand  warriors.  For  four  days  and  nights  they 
hovered  around  the  command,  und  by  the  time  it  reached 
Mulberry  Creek  there  were  not  one  thousand  rounds  of 
ammunition  left  in  the  whole  force  of  troopers  and  infan- 
trymen. At  the  creek,  the  incessant  charges  of  the  now 
infuriated  savages  compelled  the  troops  to  use  this  small 
amount  held  in  reserve,  and  they  found  themselves  almost 
at  the  mercy  of  the  Indians.  But  before  they  were  abso- 
lutely defenceless,  Colonel  Keogh  had  sent  a  trusty 
messenger  in  the  night  to  Fort  Dodge  for  a  supply  of 
cartridges  to  meet  the  command  at  the  creek,  which  for- 
tunately arrived  there  in  time  to  save  that  spot  from  being 
a  veritable  "last  ditch." 

1  This  ends  Custer's  narrative.  The  following  fight,  which  occurred  a 
few  days  afterward,  at  the  mouth  of  Mulberry  Creek,  twelve  miles 
below  Fort  Dodge,  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  Old  Trail,  was  re- 
lated to  me  personally  by  Colonel  Keogh,  who  was  killed  at  the  Rose- 
bud, in  Custer's  disastrous  battle  with  Sitting  Bull.  We  were  both 
attached  to  General  Sully's  staff. 


HANCOCK'S  EXPEDITION 


479 


The  savages,  in  the  little  hut  exciting  encounter  at  the 
creek  before  the  ammunition  arrived,  would  ride  up  boldly 
toward  the  squadrons  of  cavalry,  discharge  the  shots  from 
their  revolvers,  and  then,  in  their  rage,  throw  them  at  the 
skirmishers  on  the  flanks  of  the  supply-train,  while  the 
latter,  nearly  out  of  ammunition,  were  compelled  to  sit 
quietly  in  their  saddles,  idle  spectators  of  the  extraordi- 
nary scene.1 

Many  of  the  Indians  were  killed  on  their  ponies,  how- 
ever, by  those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  few 
cartridges  left;  but  none  were  captured,  as  the  savages 
had  taken  their  usual  precaution  to  tie  themselves  to  their 
animals,  and  as  soon  as  dead  were  dragged  away  by  them. 

1  It  was  in  this  fight  that  Colonel  Keogh's  celebrated  horse  Co- 
manche received  his  first  wound.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Co- 
manche and  a  Crow  Indian  were  the  only  survivors  of  that  unequal 
contest  in  the  valley  of  the  Big  Horn,  commonly  called  the  battle  of 
the  Rosebud,  where  Custer  and  his  command  was  massacred. 


■Ji'mpSonj  /%&/ 


CHAPTER   XXIV 


SCENERY     ON    THE    LINE    OF    THE    OLD    SANTA    FE     TRAIL THE 

GREAT  PLAINS THE   ARKANSAS  VALLEY OVER   THE   ROCKY 

MOUNTAINS    INTO    NEW    MEXICO  THE    RATON    RANGE THE 

SPANISH  PEAKS SIMPSON'S    REST FISHER'S    PEAK RATON 

PEAK SNOWY  RANGE PIKE'S   PEAK RATON  CREEK THE 

INVASION  OF    THE    RAILROAD THE    OLD    SANTA    FE    TRAIL    A 

THING    OF    THE    PAST 


HE  tourist  who  to-day,  in 

a  palace  car,  surrounded 

by  all  the  conveniences 

of  our  American  railway 

service,    commences   his 

tour  of  the  prairies  at  the 

Missouri    River,    enters 

classic  ground  the  moment  the 

train  leaves  the  muddy  flood  of 

that  stream  on  its  swift  flight 

toward  the  golden  shores-  of 

.the  Pacific. 

He   finds    a   large  city  at   the 
very    portals    of    the     once     far 
West,     with    all    the  bustle    and 
energy   which    is    so    characteristic 
of  American  enterprise. 

Gradually,  as  he  is  whirled  along  the  iron  trail,  the 
woods  lessen ;  he  catches  views  of  beautiful  intervales ;  a 
bright  little  stream  flashes  and  foams  in  the  sunlight  as 
the  trees  grow  fewer,  and  soon  he  emerges  on  the  broad 

480 


INVASION   OF  THE   RAILROAD  481 

sea  of  prairie,  shut  in  only  by  the  great  circle  of  the 
heavens. 

Dotting  this  motionless  ocean  everywhere,  like  whitened 
sails,  are  quiet  homes,  real  argosies  ventured  by  the  sturdy 
and  industrious  people  who  have  fought  their  way  through 
almost  insurmountable  difficulties  to  the  tranquillity  which 
now  surrounds  them. 

A  few  miles  west  of  Tbpeka,  the  capital  of  Kansas,  when 
the  train  reaches  the  little  hamlet  of  Wakarusa,  the  track 
of  the  railroad  commences  to  follow  the  route  of  the  Old 
Santa  Fe"  Trail.  At  that  point,  too,  the  Oregon  Trail 
branches  off  for  the  heavily  timbered  regions  of  the  Colum- 
bia. Now  begins  the  classic  ground  of  the  once  famous 
highway  to  New  Mexico;  nearly  every  stream,  hill,  and 
wooded  dell  has  its  story  of  adventure  in  those  days  when 
the  railroad  was  regarded  as  an  impossibility,  and  the 
region  beyond  the  Missouri  as  a  veritable  desert. 

After  some  hours'  rapid  travelling,  if  our  tourist  hap- 
pens to  be  a  passenger  on  the  "California  Limited,"  the 
swift  train  that  annihilates  distance,  he  will  pass  by  towns, 
hamlets,  and  immense  cattle  ranches,  stopping  only  at 
county-seats,  and  enter  the  justly  famous  Arkansas  valley 
at  the  city  of  Hutchinson.  The  Old  Trail  now  passes  a 
few  miles  north  of  this  busy  place,  which  is  noted  for  its 
extensive  salt  works,  nor  does  the  railroad  again  meet  with 
it  until  the  site  of  old  Fort  Zarah  is  reached,  forty-seven 
miles  west  of  Hutchinson,  though  it  runs  nearly  parallel 
to  the  once  great  highway  at  varying  distances  for  the 
whole  detour. 

The  ruins  of  the  once  important  military  post  may 
be  seen  from  the  car-windows  on  the  right,  as  the  train 
crosses  the  iron  bridge  spanning  the  Walnut,  and  here  the 
Old  Trail  exactly  coincides  with  the  railroad,  the  track  of 
the  latter  running  immediately  on  the  old  highway. 

Three  miles  westward  from  the  classic  little  Walnut  the 
2  i 


482  THE  OLD  SANTA  EE  TRAIL 

Old  Trail  ran  through  what  is  now  the  Court  House  Square 
of  the  town  of  Great  Bend;  it  may  be  seen  from  the  station, 
and  on  that  very  spot  occurred  the  terrible  fight  of  Captains 
Booth  and  Hallowell  in  1864. 

Thirteen  miles  further  mountamward,  on  the  right  of 
the  railroad,  not  far  from  the  track,  stands  all  that  remains 
of  the  once  dreaded  Pawnee  Rock.  It  lies  just  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  little  hamlet  bearing  its  name.  It  would 
not  be  recognized  by  any  of  the  old  plainsmen  were  they 
to  come  out  of  their  isolated  graves ;  for  it  is  only  a  dis- 
integrated, low  mass  of  sandstone  now,  utilized  for  the 
base  purposes  of  a  corral,  in  which  the  village  herd  of 
milch  cows  lie  down  at  night  and  chew  their  cuds,  such 
peaceful  transformation  has  that  great  civilizer,  the  loco- 
motive, wrought  in  less  than  two  decades. 

Another  five  or  six  miles,  and  the  train  crosses  Ash 
Creek,  which,  too,  was  once  one  of  the  favourite  haunts  of 
the  Pawnee  and  Comanche  on  their  predatory  excursions, 
in  the  days  when  the  mules  and  horses  of  passing  freight 
caravans  excited  their  cupidity.  A  short  whirl  again,  and 
the  town  of  Lamed,  lying  peacefully  on  the  Arkansas  and 
Pawnee  Fork,  is  reached.  Immediately  opposite  the  centre 
of  the  street  through  which  the  railroad  runs,  and  which 
was  also  the  course  of  the  Old  Trail,  lying  in  the  Arkansas 
River,  close  to  its  northern  bank,  is  a  small  thickly-wooded 
island,  now  reached  by  a  bridge,  that  is  famous  as  the  battle- 
ground of  a  terrible  conflict  thirty  years  ago,  between  the 
Pawnees  and  Cheyennes,  hereditary  enemies,  in  which  the 
latter  tribe  was  cruelly  defeated. 

The  railroad  bridge  crosses  Pawnee  Fork  at  the  precise 
spot  where  the  Old  Trail  did.  This  locality  has  been  the 
scene  of  some  of  the  bloodiest  encounters  between  the 
various  tribes  of  savages  themselves,  and  between  them 
and  the  freight  caravans,  the  overland  coaches,  and  every 
other  kind  of  outfit  that  formerly  attempted  the  passage 


INVASION   OF   THE   RAILROAD  488 

of  the  now  peaceful  stream.  In  fact,  the  whole  region 
from  Walnut  Creek  to  the  mouth  of  the  Pawnee,  which 
includes  in  its  area  Ash  Creek  and  Pawnee  Rock,  seemed 
to  be  the  greatest  resort  for  the  Indians,  who  hovered 
about  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  for  the  sole  purpose  of  robbery 
and  murder ;  it  was  a  very  lucky  caravan  or  coach,  indeed, 
that  passed  through  that  portion  of  the  route  without 
being  attacked. 

All  the  once  dangerous  points  of  the  Old  Trail  having 
been  successively  passed, —  Cow  Creek,  Big  and  Little  Coon, 
and  Ash  Creek,  Fort  Dodge,  Fort  Aubrey,1  and  Point  of 
Rocks, — the  tourist  arrives  at  last  at  the  foot-hills.  At  La 
Junta  the  railroad  separates  into  two  branches ;  one  going  to 
Denver,  the  other  on  to  New  Mexico.  Here,  a  relatively 
short  distance  to  the  northwest,  on  the  right  of  the  train, 
may  be  seen  the  ruins  of  Bent's  Fort,  the  tourist  having 
already  passed  the  site  of  the  once  famous  Big  Timbers, 
a  favourite  winter  camping-ground  of  the  Cheyennes  and 
Arapahoes;  but  everywhere  around  him  there  reigns  such 
perfect  quiet  and  pastoral  beauty,  he  might  imagine  that 
the  peaceful  landscape  upon  which  he  looks  had  never  been 
a  bloody  arena. 

I  suggest  to  the  lover  of  nature  that  he  should  cross  the 
Raton  Range  in  the  early  morning,  or  late  in  the  afternoon  ; 
for  then  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  Trail  over  the  high 
divide  into  New  Mexico  assumes  its  most  beautiful  aspect. 

In  approaching  the  range  from  the  Old  Trail,  or  now 
from  the  railroad,  their  snow-clad  peaks  may  be  seen  at  a 
distance  of  sixty  miles.  In  the  era  of  caravans  and  pack- 
trains,  for  hour  after  hour,  as  they  moved  slowly  toward 
the  goal  of  their  ambition,  the  summit  of  the  fearful 
pathway  on  the  divide,  the  huge  forms  of  the  mountains 
seemed  to  recede,  and  yet  ascend  higher.  On  the  next 
day's  journey  their  outlines  appeared  more  irregular  and 
1  Now  Kendal],  a  little  village  in  Hamilton  County,  Kansas. 


484  THE   OLD    SANTA   FE  TRATL 

ragged.  Drawing  still  nearer,  their  base  presented  a 
long,  dark  strip  stretching  throughout  their  whole  course, 
ever  widening  until  it  seemed  like  a  fathomless  gulf, 
separating  the  world  of  reality  from  the  realms  of  imagi- 
nation beyond. 

Another  weary  twenty  miles  of  dusty  travel,  and  the 
black  void  slowly  dissolved,  and  out  of  the  shadows  lines 
of  broken,  sterile,  ferruginous  buttes  and  detached  masses 
of  rocks,  whose  soilless  surface  refuses  sustenance,  save  to  a 
few  scattered,  stunted  pines  and  lifeless  mosses,  emerged  to 
view. 

The  progress  of  the  weary-footed  mules  or  oxen  was  now 
through  ravines  and  around  rocks ;  up  narrow  paths  which 
the  melting  snows  have  washed  out;  sometimes  between 
beetling  cliffs,  often  to  their  very  edge,  where  hundreds  of 
feet  below  the  Trail  the  tall  trees  seemed  diminished  into 
shrubs.  Then  again  the  road  led  over  an  immense  broad 
terrace,  for  thousands  of  yards  around,  with  a  bright 
lake  gleaming  in  the  refracted  light,  and  brilliant  Alpine 
plants  waving  their  beautiful  flowers  on  its  margin.  Still 
the  coveted  summit  appeared  so  far  off  as  to  be  beyond  the 
range  of  vision,  and  it  seemed  as  if,  instead  of  ascending, 
the  entire  mass  underneath  had  been  receding,  like  the 
mountains  of  ice  over  which  Arctic  explorers  attempt  to 
reach  the  pole.  Now  the  tortuous  Trail  passed  through 
snow-wreaths  which  the  winds  had  eddied  into  indenta- 
tions ;  then  over  bright,  glassy  surfaces  of  ice  and  frag- 
ments of  rocks,  until  the  pinnacle  was  reached.  Nearer, 
along  the  broad  successive  terraces  of  the  opposite  moun- 
tains, the  evergreen  pine,  the  cedar,  with  its  stiff,  angular 
branches,  and  the  cottonwood,  with  its  varied  curves  and 
bright  colours,  were  crowded  into  bunches  or  strung  into 
zigzag  lines,  interspersed  with  shrubs  and  mountain  plants, 
among  which  the  flaming  cactus  was  conspicuous.  To  the 
right  and  left,  the  bare  cones  of  the  barren  peaks  rose  in 


.  , 


v,-> 


.. 


A   TRAPPER   AND    HIS   PONY 


INVASION   OF  THE   RAILROAD  485 

multitude,  with  their  calm,  awful  forms  shrouded  in  snow, 
and  their  dark  shadows  reflected  far  into  the  valleys,  like 
spectres  from  a  chaotic  world. 

In  going  through  the  Raton  Pass,  the  Old  Santa  Fe"  Trail 
meandered  up  a  steep  valley,  enclosed  on  either  side  by 
abrupt  hills  covered  with  pine  and  masses  of  gray  rock. 
The  road  ran  along  the  points  of  varying  elevations,  now 
in  the  stony  bed  of  Raton  Creek,  which  it  crossed  fifty- 
three  times,  the  sparkling,  flitting  waters  of  the  bubbling 
stream  leaping  and  foaming  against  the  animals'  feet  as 
they  hauled  the  great  wagons  of  the  freight  caravans  over 
the  tortuous  passage.  The  creek  often  rushed  rapidly 
under  large  flat  stones,  lost  to  sight  for  a  moment,  then 
reappearing  with  a  fresh  impetus  and  dashing  over  its 
flinty,  uneven  bed  until  it  mingled  with  the  pure  waters 
of  Le  Purgatoire. 

Still  ascending,  the  scenery  assumed  a  bolder,  rougher 
cast;  then  sudden  turns  gave  you  hurried  glimpses  of  the 
great  valley  below.  A  gentle  dell  sloped  to  the  summit 
of  the  pass  on  the  west,  then,  rising  on  the  east  by  a  suc- 
cession of  terraces,  the  bald,  bare  cliff  was  reached,  over- 
looking the  whole  region  for  many  miles,  and  this  is 
Raton  Peak.1 

The  extreme  top  of  this  famous  peak  was  only  reached 
after  more  than  an  hour's  arduous  struggle.  On  the  lofty 
plateau  the  caravans  and  pack-trains  rested  their  tired 
animals.  Here,  too,  the  lonely  trapper,  when  crossing 
the  range  in  quest  of  beaver,  often  chose  this  lofty  spot  on 
which  to  kindle  his  little  fire  and  broil  juicy  steaks  of  the 
black-tail  deer,  the  finest  venison  in  the  world;  but  before 

1  Raton  is  the  name  given  by  the  early  Spaniards  to  this  range,  mean- 
ing both  mouse  and  squirrel.  It  had  its  origin  either  in  the  fact  that  one 
of  its  several  peaks  bore  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  a  squirrel,  or  because 
of  the  immense  numbers  of  that  little  rodent  always  to  be  found  in  its 
pine  forests. 


486  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

he  indulged  in  the  savoury  morsels,  if  he  was  in  the  least 
superstitious  or  devout,  or  inspired  by  the  sublime  scene 
around  him,  he  lighted  his  pipe,  and  after  saluting  the 
elevated  ridge  on  which  he  sat  by  the  first  whiff  of  the 
fragrant  kinnikinick,  Indian-fashion,  he  in  turn  offered 
homage  in  the  same  manner  to  the  sky  above  him,  the 
earth  beneath,  and  to  the  cardinal  points  of  the  compass, 
and  was  then  prepared  to  eat  his  solitary  meal  in  a  spirit 
of  thankfulness. 

Far  below  this  magnificent  vantage-ground  lies  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Las  Animas  Perdidas.  On  the  other 
verge  of  the  great  depression  rise  the  peerless,  everlast- 
ingly snow-wreathed  Spanish  Peaks,1  whose  giant  sum- 
mits are  grim  sentinels  that  for  untold  ages  have  wit- 
nessed hundreds  of  sanguinary  conflicts  between  the  wily 
nomads  of  the  vast  plains  watered  by  the  silent  Arkansas. 

All  around  you  snow-clad  mountains  lift  their  serrated 
crowns  above  the  horizon,  dim,  white,  and  indistinct,  like 
icebergs  seen  at  sea  by  moonlight;  others,  nearer,  more 
rugged,  naked  of  verdure,  and  irregular  in  contour,  seem 
to  lose  their  lofty  summits  in  the  intense  blue  of  the 
sky. 

Fisher's  Peak,  which  is  in  full  view  from  the  train,  was 
named  from  the  following  circumstance:  Captain  Fisher 
was  a  German  artillery  officer  commanding  a  battery  in 
General  Kearney's  Army  of  the  West  in  the  conquest 
of  New  Mexico  and  was  encamped  at  the  base  of  the  peak 
to  which  he  involuntarily  gave  his  name.  He  was  in- 
tently gazing  at  the  lofty  summit  wrapped  in  the  early 
mist,  and  not  being  familiar  with  the  illusory  atmospheric 
effects  of  the  region,  he  thought  that  to  go  there  would 
be  merely  a  pleasant  promenade.     So,  leaving  word  that 

1  In  the  beautiful  language  of  the  country's  early  conquerors,  "Las 
Cumbres  Espanolas,"  or  "Las  dos  Hermanas"  (The  Two  Sisters),  and 
in  the  Ute  tongue,  "  Wahtoya  "  (The  Twins). 


INVASION   OF  THE   RAILROAD  487 

he  would  return  to  breakfast,  he  struck  out  at  a  brisk 
walk  for  the  crest.  That  whole  day,  the  following  night, 
and  the  succeeding  day,  dragged  their  weary  hours  on, 
but  no  tidings  of  the  commanding  officer  were  received 
at  the  battery,  and  ill  rumours  were  current  of  his  death 
by  Indians  or  bears,  when,  just  as  his  mess  were  about  to 
take  their  seats  at  the  table  for  the  evening  meal,  their 
captain  put  in  an  appearance,  a  very  tired  but  a  wiser 
man.     He  started  to  go  to  the  peak,  and  he  went  there! 

On  the  summit  of  another  rock-ribbed  elevation  close 
by,  the  tourist  will  notice  the  shaft  of  an  obelisk.  It  is 
over  the  grave  of  George  Simpson,  once  a  noted  moun- 
taineer in  the  days  of  the  great  fur  companies.  For  a 
long  time  he  made  his  home  there,  and  it  was  his  dying 
request  that  the  lofty  peak  he  loved  so  well  while  living 
should  be  his  last  resting-place.  The  peak  is  known  as 
"Simpson's  Rest,"  and  is  one  of  the  notable  features  of 
the  rugged  landscape. 

Pike's  Peak,  far  away  to  the  north,  intensely  white  and 
silvery  in  the  clear  sky,  hangs  like  a  great  dome  high  in 
the  region  of  the  clouds,  a  marked  object,  worthy  to  com- 
memorate the  indefatigable  efforts  of  the  early  voj'ageur 
whose  name  it  bears. 

In  this  wonderful  locality,  both  Pike's  Peak  and  the 
snowy  range  over  two  hundred  miles  from  our  point  of 
observation  really  seem  to  the  uninitiated  as  if  a  brisk 
walk  of  an  hour  or  two  would  enable  one  to  reach  them, 
so  deceptive  is  the  atmosphere  of  these  elevated  regions. 

About  two  miles  from  the  crest  of  the  range,  yet  over 
seven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level,  in  a  pretty  little 
depression  about  as  large  as  a  medium-sized  corn-field  in 
the  Eastern  States,  Uncle  Dick  Wooton  lived,  and  here, 
too,  was  his  toll-gate.  The  veteran  mountaineer  erected 
a  substantial  house  of  adobe,  after  the  style  of  one  of  the 
old-time  Southern  plantation  residences,  a  memory,  per- 


488  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL 

haps,  of  his  youth,  when  he  raised  tobacco  in  his  father's 
fields  in  Kentucky.1 

The  most  charming  hour  in  which  to  be  on  the  crest 
of  Raton  Range  is  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  weather  is 
clear  and  calm.  As  the  night  comes  on  apace  in  the  dis- 
tant valley  beneath,  the  evening  shadows  drop  down,  pen- 
cilled with  broad  bands  of  rosy  light  as  they  creep  slowly 
across  the  beautiful  landscape,  while  the  rugged  vista 
below  is  enveloped  in  a  diffused  haze  like  that  which 
marks  the  season  of  the  Indian  summer  in  the  lower  great 
plains.  Above,  the  sky  curves  toward  the  relatively 
restricted  horizon,  with  not  a  cloud  to  dim  its  intense 
blue,  nowhere  so  beautiful  as  in  these  lofty  altitudes. 

The  sun,  however,  does  not  always  shine  resplendently; 
there  are  times  when  the  most  terrific  storms  of  wind, 
hail,  and  rain  change  the  entire  aspect  of  the  scene.  For- 
tunately, these  violent  bursts  never  last  long;  they  vanish 
as  rapidly  as  they  come,  leaving  in  their  wake  the  most 
phenomenally  beautiful  rainbows,  whose  trailing  splen- 
dours which  they  owe  to  the  dry  and  rare  air  of  the  region, 
and  its  high  refractory  power,  are  gorgeous  in  the  extreme. 

In  1872  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad 
entered  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Arkansas.  Twenty-four 
years  ago,  on  a  delicious  October  afternoon,  I  stood  on  the 
absolutely  level  plateau  at  the  mouth  of  Pawnee  Fork 
where  that  historic  creek  debouches  into  the  great  river. 
The  remembrance  of  that  view  will  never  pass  from  my 
memory,  for  it  showed  a  curious  temporary  blending  of 
two  distinct  civilizations.  One,  the  new,  marking  the 
course  of  empire  in  its  restless  march  westward ;  the  other, 
that  of  the  aboriginal,  which,  like  a  dissolving  view,  was 
soon  to  fade  away  and  be  forgotten. 

The  box-elders  and  cottonwoods  thinly  covering  the 
creek-bottom  were  gradually  donning  their  autumn  dress 

i        1  The  house  was  destroyed  by  fire  two  or  three  years  ago. 


INVASION   OF   THE   RAILROAD  489 

of  russet,  and  the  mirage  had  already  commenced  its  fan- 
tastic play  with  the  landscape.  On  the  sides  and  crests  of 
the  sparsely  grassed  sand  hills  south  of  the  Arkansas  a 
few  buffaloes  were  grazing  in  company  with  hundreds  of 
Texas  cattle,  while  in  the  broad  valley  beneath,  small 
flocks  of  graceful  antelope  were  lying  down,  quietly  rumi- 
nating their  midday  meal. 

In  the  distance,  far  eastwardly,  a  train  of  cars  could  be 
seen  approaching ;  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  on  either 
side  of  the  track,  the  virgin  sod  had  been  turned  to  the 
sun  ;  the  "  empire  of  the  plough  "  was  established,  and  the 
march  of  immigration  in  its  hunger  for  the  horizon  had 
begun. 

Half  a  mile  away  from  the  bridge  spanning  the  Fork, 
under  the  grateful  shade  of  the  largest  trees,  about  twenty 
skin  lodges  were  irregularly  grouped ;  on  the  brown  sod 
of  the  sun-cured  grass  a  herd  of  a  hundred  ponies  were 
lazily  feeding,  while  a  troop  of  dusky  little  children  were 
chasing  the  yellow  butterflies  from  the  dried  and  withered 
sunflower  stalks  which  once  so  conspicuously  marked  the 
well-worn  highway  to  the  mountains.  These  Indians,  the 
remnant  of  a  tribe  powerful  in  the  years  of  savage  sover- 
eignty, were  on  their  way,  in  charge  of  their  agent,  to 
their  new  homes,  on  the  reservation  just  allotted  to  them 
by  the  government,  a  hundred  miles  south  of  the  Arkansas. 

Their  primitive  lodges  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
peaceful  little  sod-houses,  dugouts,  and  white  cottages  of 
the  incoming  settlers  on  the  public  lands,  with  the  villages 
struggling  into  existence,  and  above  all  with  the  rapidly 
moving  cars ;  unmistakable  evidences  that  the  new  civili- 
zation was  soon  to  sweep  the  red  men  before  it  like  chaff 
before  the  wind. 

Farther  to  the  west,  a  caravan  of  white-covered  wagons 
loaded  with  supplies  for  some  remote  military  post,  the 
last  that  would  ever  travel  the  Old  Trail,  was  slowly  crawl- 


490 


THE   OLD   SANTA   FE   TRAIL 


ing  toward  the  setting  sun.  I  watched  it  until  only  a 
cloud  of  dust  marked  its  place  low  down  on  the  horizon, 
and  it  was  soon  lost  sight  of  in  the  purple  mist  that  was 
rapidly  overspreading  the  far-reaching  prairie. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end ;  on  the  9th  of  February, 
1880,  the  first  train  over  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa 
Fe  Railroad  arrived  at  Santa  Fe  and  the  Old  Trail  as  a 
route  of  commerce  was  closed  forever.  The  once  great 
highway  is  now  only  a  picture  in  the  memory  of  the  few 
who  have  travelled  its  weary  course,  following  the  wind- 
ings of  the  silent  Arkansas,  on  to  the  portals  that  guard 
the  rugged  pathway  leading  to  the  shores  of  the  blue 
Pacific. 


"ItKfkit 


INDEX 


Allyon,  Vasquez  de,  3. 

Annual  Races  of  Taos  Indians  at  Las 
Vegas,  250. 

An  Old  Freighter,  93. 

An  Old-time  Hunter,  206. 

An  Old  Trapper,  260. 

Apache  Canon ,  201. 

Armijo,  General,  102,  110. 

Arrival  of  the  Caravan  at  Santa  Fe', 
313. 

Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Rail- 
road, 480. 

Attack  upon  Bryant's  Party  of  Trad- 
ers, 67. 

Bad  Wound,  463. 

Baker,  Old  Jim,  313,  333. 

Beard,  41. 

Becknell,  Captain,  38. 

Beckwourth,  James  P.,  338. 

Bell,  Lieutenant  David,  166. 

Bent,  Charles,  183. 

Bent,  William,  George,   Robert,  and 

Charles,  389. 
Bent's  Fort,  390,  402. 
Bienville,  M.  de,  7. 
Big  Timbers,  233. 
Big  Tree,  159. 
Boone,  Colonel  A.  G.,  157. 
Booth,  Captain  Henry,  432. 
Bridger,  James,  327,  340. 
Brown,  Baptiste,  133,  269. 
Bryant's    Party    of   Traders,   Attack 

upon,  67. 
"  Buffalo  Bill,"  202,  210,  223,  366. 
Buffalo  Bone  Yard,  232. 
Buffalo,  Range  of,  203. 
Bull  Bear,  460. 


Cabeca  de  Vaca,  Alvar  Nunez,  2. 

Caches,  The,  39. 

Capilla  de  los  Soldados,  18. 

Caravan  corralled,  54. 

Carson,  Kit,  23,  94,  163,  188,  208,  314, 

316,  375,  408. 
Chambers,  41. 
Charlevoix,  10. 

Chavez,  Don  Antonio  Jose,  97. 
Chief  and  Medicine  Man,  389. 
Chisholm,  John,  429. 
Chouteau,  Auguste  P.,  40. 
Church  at  Taos,  140. 
Cibola,  Seven  Cities  of,  1. 
Coach,  Old  Way  by  the  Overland,  455. 
Cody,  William  F.     See  "  Buffalo  Bill." 
Comanches,  Fight  with,  79. 
Cooke,  Captain  P.  St.  George,  47. 
Coronado,  Francisco  Vasquez  de,  1,  2. 
Custer,  General,  456. 

De  Soto,  2,  3. 
Dodd,  Belzy,  332. 
Dodge,  General  R.  I.,  228. 
Dog-Soldiers,  458. 
Dumont,  7. 

Emory,  Lieutenant  W.  H.,  104. 
Espinosa,  the  bandit,  358. 

First  Railway  Train,  490. 

Fort  Dodge,  Pow-wow  at,  173,  421. 

Freighter,  An  Old,  93. 

Gerrard,  234. 
Gilson,  Chris.,  65. 
Glorieta,  La,  186. 
Gore,  Sir  George,  331. 


491 


492 


INDEX 


Gray  Beard,  462. 
Gregg,  50. 

Hallowell,  Lieutenant,  435. 

Hancock,  General,  his  Expedition,  456. 

Hatcher,  John  L.,  423. 

Hennepin,  Father,  43. 

Hermit  Cave,  Ruins  of,  27. 

Hitt,  William  Y.,  68. 

Hobbs,  James,  362. 

Hobbs,  John,  99. 

Hunter,  An  Old-time,  206. 

Indian  Customs  and  Legends,  233. 
Indian  Etiquette,  237. 
Indian  of  To-day,  422. 
Indian  Pueblo,  277. 

Indians,    Annual    Races    of,    at    Las 
Vegas,  250. 

Kearney,  General,  102. 
Kicking  Bird,  160,  175,  179,  182. 

La  Glorieta,  186. 

La  Lande,  28. 

La  Salle,  2. 

Left  Hand,  463. 

Leon,  Juan  Ponce  de,  3. 

Leroux,  Joaquin,  163. 

Little  Bear,  463. 

Little  Cow  Creek  Massacre,  417. 

Lujan,  'Don  Diego  de  Vargas  Zapata, 


Mail,  First  Overland,  146. 
Massacre  at  Fernandez  de  Taos,  118. 
Maxwell,  L.  B.,  266,  317,  373. 
Maxwell's  Manor  House,  388. 
McKnight,  41. 
McNess  and  Monroe,  52. 
Medicine  Wolf,  462. 
Mexican  Horseman,  372. 
Mississippi,  Navigation  of,  142. 
Missouris,  8. 
Moscoso,  Luis  de,  4. 

Narvaez,  Pamphilo  de,  3. 
Nunez,  Alvar,  Cabeca  de  Vaca,  2. 


Old  Spanish  Palace,  Santa  Fe',  26. 

Old  Way  by  the  Overland  Coach,  455. 

Old  Wolf,  424. 

Onate,  Don  Juan  de,  20. 

Osages,  8. 

Pack-train,  Description  of,  Outfit,  55. 

Palatio  del  Gobernador,  16. 

Pawnee  Killer,  460. 

Pawnee  Rock,  403. 

Peacock, 169. 

Pecos,  Bridge  of  the  Rio,  66. 

Pike,  Captain  Zebulon,  28,  29. 

Pipe  Stone,  245. 

Ponce  de  Leon,  Juan,  3. 

Pursley,  James,  28,  29. 

Quaker  Policy,  178. 
Quivira,  Kingdom  of,  1. 

Rabbit  Ear  Mountain,  76. 
Railroad,  Invasion  of,  480. 
Railway,  First  Train,  490. 
Ranch,  A  Mexican,  15. 
Raton  Pass,  347. 

Riley,  Major  Bennett,  46,  75,  76,  77. 
Ruins  of  Church  at  Pecos  in  1846,  112. 
Ryus,  W.  H,  154,  158. 

San  Jose,  Valley  of,  66. 

San  Miguel  Church,  Santa  Fe',  38. 

Santa  Fe',  12. 

Santa  Fe' Trade,  Commencement  of,  51. 

Satank,  168,  181,  185. 

Satanta,  141,  156,  172. 

Sheridan's  Winter  Campaign,  47. 

Sherman,  Pat.,  55. 

Shos-shones,  256. 

Simpson,  George,  480. 

Simpson's  Rest,  479. 

Smith,  Buckingham,  1. 

Smith,  Uncle  John,  266,  279. 

Snively,  Colonel,  94. 

Solitary  Man's  Peak,  431. 

Squaw  and  Pappoose,  278. 

Squaw  unharnessing  Team,  233. 

Street  Scene  in  Santa  Fe',  92, 

St.  Vrain,  Ceran,  389. 


INDEX 


493 


Sublette,  Captain,  49,  51. 
Survey  of  Roarl  from  the  Missouri  to 
New  Mexico,  44. 

Tall-Bear-That-Walks-Under-The- 

Ground,  463. 
Tall  Bull,  45!l. 
Taos,  Massacre  at,  118. 
Taos,  Pueblo  de,  101. 
Taos,  Valley  of,  113. 
Teepee  in  the  Kaw  Valley,  37. 
Tobin,  Tom,  163,  358. 
Trapper,  An  Old,  260. 
Trappers,  251. 
Twiggs,  General,  surrender,  188. 


Utes,  160. 

Valley  of  San  Jose,  66. 

Wagon  Mound,  422. 

War  with  Mexico,  102. 

Wharton,  Captain,  47. 

White  Horse,  460. 

White,  murdered  by  Utes,  161. 

White  Wolf,  166. 

Wife  of  an  Indian  Chief,  113. 

Williams,  Captain  Ezekiel,  30. 

Williams,  Old  Bill,  355. 

Wooton,  Uncle  Dick,  163,  341. 

Wright,  Hon.  R.  M.,  224. 


^^XtA 


